Whisper Gatherers

by Nicola McDonagh

  Santy relaxed her stiff-shouldered stance, gave Deogol a ‘Don’t you dare say anything’ look and put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Indeed you do. Whilst we are all here, I must re-arrange our sleeping quarters so as to fit in our guests.”

  Deogol snorted. “I’ll not give up my room. I need quiet and solitude for my studies.”

  “What studies are you taking outside of class?”

  My bro shuffled in his chair, then went the colour of the sky at sunrise. “Extra stuff that they do not teach.”

  “Like what?” Santy said. She bent low, put her elbows on the table and leant in close to Deogol.

  “Stuff, just stuff, okay!” He pushed back his chair and stood. His face reddened even more. I thought he was about to blub when Grangran touched his arm.

  “Leave the lad be. He has much to occupy his mind it would seem. Who are we to deny him this?”

  Santy slowly straightened and took a long breath. “This matter will keep. Deogol, you will not need to give up your room, however, you will need to share it.”

  “Not with Adara!”

  “Oy, no need to sound so mean,” I said, more hurt than I should have been.

  “Calm, calm. No, you will not share with your sister, but with Dreng. Worry not, for he will be guarding Adara during the moontime when you should be asleep. He will rest during your waking hours. Do not show me that face. It is done.”

  My bro scowled, clenched his hands, but did not respond. Santy nodded. “Orva and I will share. You can remain as is, Adara. Before you say another word, Deogol, your sister is of an age when she needs alone time and space to become who she is. This arrangement will be brief. Now, go wash and change. You must rehearse before the light diminishes.”

  “Rightly so. Back in a few secs,” I said and went to my room.

  Once inside I became heavy of limb and longed to lie down, but I could not, so went straight to the cleansing place. I secured the door, not knowing rightly why, and took off my smelly clothes. Then I threw them into the wallbasket, stepped into the glass-fronted cubicle and let the steamshower jets blast away all trace of sweat, muck and slime. Then I dried myself on a fluffly towel and went back into my sleeping quarters to choose suitable attire for my practise.

  I opened the clothespace and pulled out my favourite outside troos made from thick, brown synthowool, and a black, long-sleeved tunic. Baggy enough to allow me to stretch and belt out my song. With a wink to my animal murals, I placed said garments on the chair by the window, then took out suitable undergarments from the beddrawer. The bazoomiecups felt tighter than before, yep, for sure my mams were swelling, becoming sore. The reddiness was fast approaching. I dressed quickly and went back to the kinsfolk room.

  All were resting on the comfycouch, except for Greatgrangran. She was sitting on the big chair playing something on her slab. Santy stood in the doorway of the eating place and chewed on her fingernail. My bro sat hunched up in between Orva and Dreng, who stared at the wall as if it were showing an interesting vid. “Hi-hi. I am all changed.”

  Quick as a Curfewrebel clocked by a Flashlighter, both S.A.N.T.S. poinged up from their seats. “If you are ready we must go.”

  “Yeah, in a sec, Orva. I was wondering if I might not partake of some grub first?”

  “Ye must practice before curfew. Come now, eat later,” Dreng said and waved his large mitt towards the door.

  “I will, I just need something to munch on.”

  “If you must. Select something suitable to be consumed on the move. We are to take you to where you will…”

  “Practice, I know. Fine, I’ll do that.” But before I could march into the eating place, Santy brought me an oatly bar. “Ta.”

  “Go swiftly, the moon is eager to shine.”

  “Come, we must get to the practice place.” Dreng heavy-footed it to the exit. I followed whilst Orva walked behind.

  When I reached the door, I paused. “Is it safe?”

  “As can be. Worry not. Folk will nay bother us for fear of another sound grenade being launched,” Dreng said and opened the door.

  Cautious as a birdybird flying too low, I stepped outside. With the S.A.N.T.S. either side of me, we tramped down the landing. Santy’s voice echoing our footfalls as we descended the stairs. “Be careful. Do not Loiter. Be home before Curfew.”

  We went out into the almost twilight. I followed Dreng and Orva as they trekked all swiftly to the rough terrain outside Cityplace. Dreng halted just before a perimeter guard post. “Ye may do yer practising here. We will gae to the guard hut and keep watch. We will nay interfere.”

  “Thanks.”

  “When the light fades we will return,” he said and both S.A.N.T.S. strode off to the Borderguard hut. I stood looking out at the Wilderness, remembering my brief visit to it, and longed to smell and touch its loamy earthiness again.

  “You may begin. The guard has turned off the fence alert in case a birdy lands,” Orva called to me. I waved. Then I stared at the greying sky for a bit. “Now would be a good time.”

  “Fine, I’m just going to.” Huffin’ hell and twice that profanity. Practice? Practice what? I had no idea how to call the birdybirds. All I knew was how to sing like them, and I had gleaned that info from an archaic slabgame. I had no desire to bring down the raptors or give folk the heebie-jeebies like before, but even from this long distance, I could feel the eyes of the two guards burning into my flesh.

  Stepping closer to the fence, I lifted my head, breathed in and let out a high-pitched note. Nowt. I did it again in different keys and lengths, but no birdles called back, or flew down. I looked to the guard hut, but my safekeepers were deep in conversation with the Borderguard.

  I tried several more times and just when I was about to stop, I heard a faint warble come from one of the trees in front of me. I swivelled round to see if the others had clocked the sound, but they were as before. I leaned over the railing, cupped my hands over my mouth and made the same tweet. It came back, closer than before. I repeated my song. I saw a rustling high up in the leaves of the tree opposite where I stood. Again I made the sound. Before my eyes, a real live birdybird flew out of the branches.

  I slapped my hands against my mouth and held my breath. The birdle swooped low before my face. I saw yellow and black feathers. It swooped again and I swear it was about to land, but a nearby rustle in the shrubbery caused it to zoom up and out of sight. Nad! My very first sight of a birdle, done for.

  “Oy!” I cried out to whomever, or whatever made the distracting sound. The foliage rustling stopped. I stood on tiptoes, put my hands on top of the metal fence, and hoisted myself up so that my shoulders and head were free of its constraints. Juddering somewhat in the pecs, I shouted out again. The grass and brambles moved. “Hey! Hey!” I near shrieked as I caught a glimpse of a shadowy form scuttling away. My muscles gave out. I fell to the ground.

  “Right. The moon is rising. Best get ye back.”

  Coughing, I rose, brushed some muck from my kecks and nodded. Dreng looked over my shoulder towards the Wilderness. “What did ye see?”

  I shrugged. “Nowt. Just the leaves and twigs twitch a bit. Thought it was something, wasn’t I guess.”

  He lifted his chin and sniffed. “There’s smoke upon the wind.”

  “So there is. Yeuk. It has a pong to it I do not care for.”

  Orva joined us and narrowed her already narrow eyes. “Move back, the fence is switched on. What you sniff at is Carnie stench. They roast their prey over open fires. So I heard. The smell is that of melting muscle and fat.”

  “Again, yeuk.”

  “If they are this close, we must prepare.”

  “For what, Dreng?”

  He stared at me for too long, then spat something green onto the ground.

  “Come. Adara. We must get ye to safety.”

  His words made my spine itch. “Hang on a sec. Are you saying that the Carnieval is here?”

  “Dreng, is not. He is merely surmi
sing that the stink we can smell, is from meat-eaters nearby.” She gave her fellow Backpacker a most furrowed brow look. “This does not mean the Carnies and their mean trickery are upon us. See, the moon is almost up. Come, let us go back to your quarters.”

  Nothing would have suited me more, but I had a niggle-naggle nibbling on my top most vertebra. “If they are coming, then we are in trouble.”

  “Best not surmise that which we cannot glean.”

  I had no argument to Orva’s sensible words, so I just shrugged and followed the S.A.N.T.S. back to Puritytowers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Intruders

  As we strode forth, I became aware of a strange calm as if all had fallen asleep. Despite there being quite a few folk plid-plodding around trying to get as much light time as they could before Curfew Bell forced them to retreat indoors. The dark had a way of making folk jittery, especially since the Praisebee incident. What was oddly was their lack of chat. They walked all quiet-like, without purpose. I looked to Orva and Dreng; they had tightened jaws and gave out a vibe of alert.

  A mist rose from the ground. It spread out in a hazy blanket that almost obscured the Citydwellers. They stopped, so did we. I peered into the mist and saw the shapes of five non-Cityfolk. How the huff did they get in? A murmur grew from where they stood. A name, mine. Huff! Not again.

  The residents that stood still did not seem to notice the newcomers and joined in with the stranger’s chant as if they were compelled to do so. The sound grew until ‘Adara’ was near shrieked.

  Orva looked to Dreng. He screwed up his eyes and tapped his ears as though something had crawled in. The fog began to dissipate and with it the name calling. I saw the eerie cloud move swiftly towards where the oddly figures stood. It whooshed towards them as though they tugged at it. The voices that called my name grew fainter as it dispersed until it became as nowt.

  In the clear that ensued five males stood wearing dark metal helmets, with blacked-out visors, so that we could not see their faces. They were dressed in all-in-one green troo suits, with a big wide belt around the middle that housed a whole host of small knives and guns. In their hands, they carried large weapons. Still folk did not seem to comprehend their sudden appearance. I was about to yell, “Oy, strange, scary looking males have mysteriously arrived,” when they began to walk forward.

  “Hey, ye, ye there, halt!” Dreng said.

  They did not.

  “Halt!”

  When they did not, Orva and Dreng took out their thwacking sticks and held them out to menace the strangers.

  “How the huffin’ hell did they get in?”

  “This is not good. You must run home. Now!” Orva said, but before I could, the hostile males hoisted their great weapons to shoulder height. She shouted out, “Stand down or we will be forced to disarm you.”

  They halted, dropped their weapons and cocked their heads to one side. A Citydweller fem pointed at me. “She is the Auger. Tell your Agro bosses. You can have her if you want.” Then she slapped her hand over her mouth and scuttled away. The other folk stared around not knowing what to do. The helmeted ones stood stiff like statues and I wondered if they were made of flesh at all.

  I turned to Orva, who was wide of eye. “Are these Agros?”

  “Must be. Or more likely, folk they have turned to do their bidding. It is said that Agros never leave their home and send others to do their filthy work. I confess to be more than puzzled by their appearance.”

  Dreng shrugged his ample shoulders. “They do nay seem to ha purpose. Why stand there and do nowt when they possess such mean firearms. This is strange beyond strange.”

  The weird Agros, if that is what they were, shuffled their feet in a dance-like manner then lifted their gun things again. “Enough of this,” Ova said. She produced a head protector from her arm pouch, Dreng did the same and they put them on. The soft hat things became solid when they hit flesh, fitting snugly onto their skull and forehead. When thusly shielded, they reached into their troo leg pockets, withdrew some kind of many-bladed knife, and ran full pelt towards the enemy. To my surprise all but one of the attackers turned and fled, just like that.

  A swift silence descended.

  The remaining Agro stood tall and said in a low gruff voice that I could almost feel, “More are coming. We now know who and where the Auger is, thanks to your free chatting friends.”

  A cold wind stirred up and began to blow around the place. It became fierce. Gusty. So much so that all who remained in a trance-like state, were pushed backwards by the force of it. As it whooshed and swished, I swear I heard voices carried within it. Calling out individuals names, saying things like, “Morian, sea-born, waits for you. Cadwgan, the battle will rid you of your nearest ones. Adara, Deogol is not what he seems.” I held my breath and saw the Cityfolk cower. The wind eased.

  “Dreng, race to Centralplaza. Raise the alarm.”

  He legged it all swiftly to said place. Pushing past the folk that clung to each other, but did not move. In but a few secs the Curfew Bell sounded. With it came several other City S.A.N.T.S. who began to mingle with the a-feared residents, pointing in the direction of the Auditorium.

  Normally the Curfew Bell would send folk legging it back to their homes, this time instead of the noise forcing them to flee, it brought them forth. As well as those already outside, I saw many other Citydwellers walking about in a confused manner. The S.A.N.T.S. could not budge them. Orva shook her head, ran towards said loons, and poked and pushed them, yelling, “Fools! What is wrong with you? Curfew Bell has sounded. To your homes, quickly!”

  They bumped into each other, addled and shaken. Nowt Orva or the other City S.A.N.T.S. could say made them move. They wandered about the place not knowing what to do. Then a great light came on blinding us all. The lone Agro shouted, “Stay where you are. Do not try to stop us.” The light went out. The solo Agro lifted his weapon. The docile Cityfolk who knew nowt of fear or combat, stood or squatted, and let loose a most pitiful moan.

  Orva stared at the intruder. “This is madness. Drop your weapon. You are alone here. We outrank you.”

  “That we do,” Dreng said returning, and stood spread-legged, combat style. The other S.A.N.T.S. adopted the same stance.

  “What do the Agros want?”

  “I do nay know for sure. But they are adept at creating terror amongst folk.” Dreng wiped his mouth. The Agro pointed his gun at a mam carrying a bub. “What? Nay, they want to fire on kiddles too?”

  “This is unacceptable,” Orva said and raced towards the shaking Agro.

  “Watch out!” I shouted as the Agro thug attempted to shoot her. Dreng lunged upon her attacker allowing her to kick him in the nads, but not before he fired a round of something nasty into Dreng. He staggered backwards then stood tall. Orva ass-kicked the Agro scum. With a grunt, he limped away.

  The terrified folk gradually began to retreat from the scene of almost carnage. I ran to Orva and flung my arms around her, she hugged me close, then very swiftly pushed me away when Dreng slumped-footed over to us. “The day is won,” he said then crumpled to the ground. She knelt by his side and felt his neck for a pulse.

  “He lives, we must get to your home.”

  “Not to a medi centre? We could call for a ‘ulance.”

  “It would take too much time.” She turned to her fellow guards. “Do what you can to right things. I must take Dreng to a safe place. Adara, help me lift him.”

  I took an arm, Orva another, and together we hoisted Dreng to a standing position. He grunted, opened his eyes and said, “I can manage, wi yer help.”

  We supported his great bulk as he shuffled and wheezed all the way to the entrance to Puritytowers. When the doors whooshed open and the sanity spray washed over us, Dreng spluttered for a sec then shook us free. “I can walk unaided.”

  “No, you cannot. Now is not the time for futile acts of bravery. Come, rest upon my shoulder. We will get you to Breanna’s quarters.”

  He
nodded. I ran to the elevator and punched the up button. The doors slid open and Orva hobbled in with Dreng, who all but hung onto her shoulders. I stood next to him, offered my arm, he took it and up we went. It was goodly indeed that our apartment was but seven strides from the lifting room, for Dreng began to waver. Orva and I had to almost carry him to the door. I banged upon it. It opened.

  “Adara, good that you are safe. Ah, not so Dreng. Come inside quick. Tell of all that has occurred.”

  Orva pulled Dreng back from the opened door. “Run in quick to take the blast of sanitary spray. I do not want him to inhale any more unnatural substances.”

  I sneezed when I took the full force of the cleansing mist. Orva helped him through the door and Santy took over from holding him up. “I am needed without, I think,” Orva said. Santy nodded and Orva left us.

  I closed the door. Santy near dragged Dreng into the living space and let him fall onto the comfy couch. He made an “Oof,” sound then lay still on his back.

  “Ah, Addly, there you are, I was worried about you when all the fuss began.” I looked to the foodprep room. Greatgrangran stood in the doorway. “I heard a lot of shouting and wailing, but my game was more interesting so I went back to it. Didn’t hear a thing after that,” Greatgrangran said holding up a set of earhole enhancers. “Can’t hear nowt but the silly tunes and effects on my slab when I wear these things.” She walked in, took a swiftly look at Dreng and folded her arms. “Thought so. More fisticuffs. Such nonsense. What has occurred?”

  There was a niggly feel in my nonce and an image of my bro entered my head, along with the wind words I’d heard in the plaza. “Grangran, where is Deogol?”

  “Him? Sly little earwig. He is in his room, fingers near stuck to his comp pad. Oh, I asked what was what, but he scuttled past me all red of face and locked his door.”

  “Up to who knows what.”

  “Addy, why do you say that about your bro?”

  I did not mean to blurt out my thoughts. Deogol was acting weirdo, though, but I wasn’t going to say anything that might get him into trouble with Santy, so I changed the subject instead. “Should we not attend to Dreng’s wounds?”