by Chris Ord
They entered the woods, Gaia dragging Clara behind her, clutching the strings that bound her. Clara stumbled and faltered, lacking the heart or conviction, trying to be as awkward as she could. Every now and then Gaia would flash the knife in her hand just to remind Clara. There should be no doubts that Gaia would use it, if only as a last resort.
They followed a rough path into the woods. It was not clear or laid out, but Gaia was processing the route all the time, confident her strong memory would get them to where they needed to be. Soon they reached the area, though it was difficult to tell in the dark. Gaia recognised the thicker foliage of the bush where the hideout was, and the branches of the door concealing the entrance. Gaia stopped and listened. There was no sound other than the gentle hush of the night breeze as it danced through the trees, and the rustle of the leaves and branches as they swayed overhead. There were no voices, not even whispers.
Gaia led Clara to the branches of the entrance and peeled them back. There was the passage, the arch bent overhead. Gaia could see the glow of a candle at the end of the entrance tunnel ahead, the silhouette of what appeared to be two figures sitting on the logs either side. Gaia could not make out the faces, but was sure one of them was Aran. She dragged Clara through the entrance, pulling the branches behind, then made her way along the short, narrow entrance. As they entered the domed area of the hideout the faint light of the candle revealed the right side of Aran’s face, looking up at her. A smile, a mixture of worry and relief was stretched across his face. Sat on the log opposite Aran was another boy. Gaia recognised him, but did not know his name. Such was the narrow entrance that Gaia’s body had concealed the surprise behind her. The boys had not yet noticed they had a visitor, an extra guest for the journey, an unwanted and unwilling guest, a prisoner.
‘What kept you? Is it sorted?’
‘Yes, but we’ve got a problem.’
‘What is it?’
Gaia moved round to reveal Clara crouching in the opening to the passage. Clara’s mouth was still filled with the handkerchief, hands still bound by the string. The faces of the others dropped. Aran thrust an angry look at Gaia.
‘What the hell’s she doing here?’
‘I had no choice. I found her whimpering outside Hakan’s door, as I was about to leave. She just sat there, wouldn't budge. I couldn’t get out and the time was getting on. I waited, but I had no other choice. It was too risky to leave her.’
‘This blows everything wide open.’
Aran looked across at Clara. She gazed back, her eyes pleading for pity and mercy. Aran was a boy and Clara knew how to play them. Perhaps he would take pity and leave her, or set her free. The boys would see the madness in this, the insanity in Gaia. There was no getting through to Gaia, but Aran was different. He would come round. Aran knew Clara, and was well aware of her style. He had seen such girls before, and had no time for them. Aran looked away at Gaia, the source of this problem. The explanation had better be good.
‘What have you got planned Gaia?’
Gaia moved round and sat on the log beside the other boy who remained silent. He deferred to Aran, the leader and orchestrator. Gaia gestured to Clara to sit on the log opposite. Clara stepped over the candle and sat beside Aran, hurling a bitter, accusative glance at Gaia. Clara lifted her bound hands, winced as if in pain, and shuffled and fidgeted. Gaia ignored her.
‘I know how this looks, but if I had any other choice I wouldn’t have brought her. We can take her with us, and leave her once we get across the causeway. We tie her up, but in good view. They’ll find her in a few hours once the tide goes out. We’ll be long gone by then.’
Aran shook his head, banging his forehead with his fist. The last thing they wanted was to drag an extra body along, a reluctant one at that. There had to be another way.
‘Could we not just leave the girl here? We can keep her tied up and gagged.’
‘It’s too risky. She’ll try and escape and we haven’t got anything strong enough to keep her tied securely in here. That string I’ve used for her hands is no good. It’d take her no time to get out of that. There’s too many risks leaving her. Once she gets free, she’ll just alert the leaders and we’ve lost our head start. No, we can’t risk it.’
Aran thought for a while. Gaia was right. There were too many problems in leaving Clara here. Like Gaia, Aran would not contemplate killing an innocent. He knew that Gaia being here meant she had succeeded in killing Hakan. That was different. Hakan deserved what he got, but Clara did not. She was not a threat to their lives and killing should always be the last resort. It would be cold, heartless, brutal murder. They were better than that. They had to take her with them.
‘OK. I don’t like it, but we’ll have to go with it, but you watch her and if she tries any funny business you deal with her. If you don’t I will. Did you hear that Clara?’
Clara nodded, still trying to plead for mercy with her eyes, clutching the faintest thread of hope they would change their minds and leave her here. Unable to plead her case in words Clara replied with desperation. Her eyes were the key. They were so powerful, the weapon of choice, but missing the mark, failing to win Aran over. Both Aran and Gaia had other priorities and worries. They were smart, and ruthless, and knew Clara would try to get free. They were right. There was nothing Clara would like better than to see Gaia get caught and suffer for this humiliation.
Aran gestured to the boy by Gaia’s side who shuffled round to face Gaia, and held out his hand.
‘Gaia this is Yann.’
‘Hi. I’ve seen you round, but I don’t think we’ve spoken.’
Gaia took his hand. His grip was limp and flimsy. Yann replied.
‘I know you. So you’re part of this crack team Aran has put together.’
‘Yep. I hope I come up to scratch.’
Yann had short, jet black hair, with skin dark and pimpled. His lips were prominent, pouting, the skin cracked and flaky. He was thick set, not muscular, and not fat, but stocky. His face was round and full, and even in the dim light Gaia noticed his eyelashes were unusually long for a boy, giving his face a feminine quality. Yann’s cheeks looked flush in the cold night air, the crisp, biting weather highlighted the purple spots that littered his face in clusters. Gaia looked at Aran.
‘Are we waiting for anyone else?’
‘One more. She should be here by now. If she’s not here soon we’ll go. We can’t afford to wait any longer. We need to get to the causeway before the tide turns. Once it does the water comes in quickly, especially when the moon is as full as this.’
There was a brief silence. They all gazed at the flickering candle, drawn by its mesmerising glow, the only glimmer of warmth in the cold darkness. The night song of the woods played out beyond the protective canopy of branches. There was a crack, the sound of a branch or a twig breaking. There were footsteps, light, and careful but still noticeable. They all tensed, and Gaia put her hand on the handle of her knife. Everyone held their breath and looked toward the tunnel that led to the doorway to the hideout. They could not see the end, but they listened, searching the darkness, grasping for clues. There was the sound of the branches being pulled back, the movement of someone entering, the swish of the foliage returning. There was the shuffling of footsteps, and a face came into view. It was the face of a girl. At first it did not register with Gaia, at first unsure, but the realisation hit her, the shock, the horror, the surge of emotion. It was her, the one person Gaia had never imagined, Freya.
Gaia jumped to her feet, and moved towards Freya. The knife was from its sheath as Gaia grabbed Freya by the hair, pulling her head to the floor, and dragging her body down to the ground. Gaia placed her knee on the top of Freya’s back, and pinned her to the earth, her face biting the cold dirt. The knife was hanging by the side of Freya’s face, a warning not to move. Aran dived at Gaia, while Yann flung himself back in shock.
The speed of Gaia’s movement took everyone by surprise, especially Freya who lay there with no att
empt to react.
‘What the hell Gaia?’
Aran grabbed Gaia, and eased back. His hand was touching Gaia’s shoulder. He was gentle, wanting to reassure, careful not to cause any further alarm. Gaia’s face was seething with anger, a mist cast across her stare.
‘What do you mean? What’s she doing here. She works for Kali. It’s her spy.’
Freya remained silent, her face still pressed into the ground, lips contorted by the pressure of Gaia’s weight. Aran looked puzzled, still nervous and wary of Gaia, not wanting her to react. He wanted to give her time to simmer down, so he could explain.
‘No Gaia. You’re wrong. She’s coming with us. I’ve been planning this with Freya for a while now. She’s one of us. You can trust her. Believe me. Now let her go, and I’ll explain.’
The expression on Gaia’s face changed. Something had registered. The switch that had been triggered was clicking back into place. The blind intensity of her anger had been punctured by Aran’s words. Gaia was processing them, trying to make sense of them. You’re wrong. She’s one of us. You can trust her. Believe me. Could it be true? Freya? The person she had hated because of Kali. Aran had to be wrong, he had to have been duped. This was all part of Freya and Kali’s plan, a trap to snare them.
‘No way Aran. She’s tricked you. She’s Kali’s spy I know it!! I’ve seen her crawling up to her, whispering. Just today I saw it. She was probably telling her everything. I bet they’re coming now. It’s over. We’re finished.’
‘No Gaia! Listen. You’re wrong. Put the knife away and let her go. Let me explain. You’re hurting her. Please Gaia. We have to go.’
Gaia removed her knee from Freya’s back and got to her feet.
‘OK, explain.’
‘I’m not explaining anything until you step back and calm down.’
Aran’s words washed over Gaia’s anger and emotion, smothering them. She was lost, confused. Part of her wanted to believe Aran, but as soon as she grasped at the comfort of his words, more emotion swept in. The anger and voice of caution returned telling her to be careful, of the danger. Trust no-one. The words and emotion wrestled inside. Gaia’s head was a whirlwind of confusion.
The image of Kali kept flashing into Gaia’s head. The cold, bitter face staring back at her. Kali’s menacing eyes punctured Aran’s reassuring words. The sly, knowing grin stoking the fire of hatred from the pit of Gaia’s anger. Gaia looked at Aran. The faint glow of the candle was just enough to show the fear in his face. His eyes were pleading, begging her to listen. Aran was poised, ready to take action if need be. Everything now hung in the balance. The next few moments would define the journey. They stood at a crossroads, one path leading to the precipice, the other uncertain, but still offering a glimmer of hope, a fading one. These were the pivotal moments that define life, the important choices. The outcome would determine all that came after. Aran pleaded again, one last time.
‘Please Gaia.’
Aran’s voice was slow, measured. The tone and tempo of his words had been just right. Each one hit Gaia like the strike of a hammer, forcing home their message. Each cast out the image of Kali from her mind, destroying the anger and emotion. She placed her knife back into its sheath and stepped back.
Freya still lay with her face in the dirt, thick saliva running from her mouth, and mucus from her nose, both mixed with soil. She was shaking, face pale with shock and anger. Freya knew how close she had come, what Gaia was capable of. Freya stayed, not wanting to move and alarm Gaia. Aran would explain, calm the situation.
Gaia sat on the log. Clara and Yann both shared a look of apprehension and fear. If they had been in any doubt of Gaia’s capability, the danger she posed, those doubts had gone. The speed at which Gaia moved, the clinical way she had immobilised Freya, the precision of her attack. Gaia was someone they should fear. Any thoughts Clara had toyed with of escaping, of waiting for an opportunity to act were now gone. Clara knew that to act would be to die. Yann had looked to Aran as his leader, the dominant one who had developed this plan, the one he would defer to. Yann knew that no-one led Gaia.
Aran sat opposite Gaia who was staring forward, eyes distant, almost lifeless. Aran looked at the others, saw the fear in their eyes. Time was melting away, and their opportunity with it. All was not yet lost, but the key lay with Gaia. Aran had to get through to her. Gaia was a risk. Brilliant and unpredictable, but they needed her. Both Freya and Gaia were the key to this trip. Aran knew this better than anyone.
‘Gaia?’
Gaia looked up, eyes flickering into life. Something clicked and the blank expression lifted. She seemed to return again, to realise where she was, become aware of the others. Gaia nodded, her lips moved, not a smile, but an acknowledgement, a sign she was ready to listen. Aran’s voice was calm.
‘I know how Freya’s behaviour probably looked, but that was all part of our plan. Freya’s been in on this for a while. She’s been close to Kali for her own reasons, but there’s no love or loyalty there. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Wasn’t that one of the messages in the readings recently? You know Kali, she’s shrewd. When I knew Freya wanted to escape the island she was ideal to throw Kali off the scent. She’s close to her so that would give us any clues if Kali was onto us. Freya’s also been feeding Kali misinformation, leading her down blind alleys. When you saw her whispering to Kali today that was all part of it. We don’t think Kali has any idea about this. If she did, Freya would know.’
Gaia was confused. Logic told her this might be true, but it went against all she felt. She had become so used to thinking of Freya as an enemy, her hatred was so instinctive that this was difficult to accept.
‘Whatever you think you know of Freya, you’re wrong. We haven’t got time. We need to move. You need to get your head round this Gaia. Now!’
Gaia was trying to process everything. Logic and passion were still at odds inside. This was still the moment. Whatever happened Gaia was finished on the island. She had murdered a leader, and taken another member prisoner. Whatever line was in the sand, she had overstepped it. If Freya was working for Kali they would have been found and caught by now. If Aran was right there was still the chance of freedom. Now was not the time for doubt and indecision. Aran was right. They had to move. Gaia had to take control of her emotions, make the right move and go.
‘Let’s go. It’s too late to turn back now.’
Gaia stood and reached out a hand. Freya lifted her head from the ground and rolled over, grabbing Gaia’s hand and easing to her feet. They stood face to face, eyes locked. For a moment there was the old flash of hatred, of mistrust, but it faded. There was a touch of warmth in Gaia’s eyes, reaching out to Freya, their hands remained locked together. Gaia looked at Freya’s face still smothered in saliva and dirt. Her cheek was imprinted with the uneven pattern of the ground below, flecks of grass clung to her skin.
‘I’m sorry Freya.’
Freya was cautious, uneasy, but now was not the time to continue this. Freya wiped away some of the grime from her face with her sleeve and spat on the floor.
‘Let’s forget about it. We need to move or this’ll all have been a waste of time.’
Aran stepped forward patting them both on the shoulders.
‘That’s settled, now let’s get off this island!’
Freya looked across at Clara.
‘What’s she doing here?’
Aran frowned and thrust daggers at Gaia.
‘It’s a long story. I can’t explain now, but Clara’s coming with us. Just till we get off the island.’
10
They left the hideout, each with a rucksack, all except Clara who was gagged, bound and dragged by Gaia. They made their way through the woods, Aran leading the way. The terrain was tricky, especially in the darkness. The full moon cast little glow through the thick canopy above. Bushes and vines choked the earth and made their route hazardous and slow. They stumbled often, Clara most. Gaia was becoming annoyed, convinced it
was a tactic to slow them down. They were at the back of the group, managing to keep pace despite Clara’s frequent falls. The branch of a vine caught Gaia’s cheek. She felt the thorns pierce and rip her cold skin. The pain was sharp, lingering, made all the worse by the biting temperatures of the clear night.
Aran pressed on at a strong pace. He knew the route and wanted to make up for lost time. Catching the timing of the tide was critical. They would cross the causeway at the latest possible moment, and if they were discovered before morning there would still be the protection of the incoming tide. The causeway was a lifeline to the island, its main artery, but it had taken many lives in the past. Foolish people who tried to cross despite the incoming tide.
They reached the edge of the woods. There was a field to cross before they reached the dunes and beach beyond. They were to follow the beach to the causeway. It was not the shortest route, but it was the safest and there was no chance of getting lost. Eventually the coastline would reach the causeway. There was also the rats. They roamed at night, but seldom scavenged near the beach as there was little food.
They crossed the field. The moon shone overhead casting a bright, pure light from the clear sky. As the glow panned out, and faded into the blackness a sea of stars could be seen. On a pitch black, clear night the sky was overwhelming. Millions of flickering dots of light, all of varying intensity speckled the blanket of darkness. Gaia would often gaze out of her bedside window and soak up the spectacle. Each a huge ball of blazing gas, each in its own private solar system, with its own planets, moons, and life. All so distant from where they stood. The light from some of the stars took so long to reach the eyes that they may no longer exist. They were ghosts, real and could be seen, but only echoes of something past. What chance was there of another Gaia somewhere she wondered. On another distant planet spinning around one of these flecks of light. Maybe there was someone staring back at her, looking at the same wondrous display, thinking the same thoughts. Such was the infinite nature of the universe anything was possible, anything and everything, a sea of infinite possibilities.
