Becoming

by Chris Ord

  ‘You’ve got milk. Fresh milk. How come? Do you have cows?’

  ‘Ah, yes the milk! Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.’

  Jack rose and took a walking stick from near the door. He led Gaia out of the farmhouse and through the courtyard behind the house. They followed a dirt track down the hill, through a gate and over a stile into a field. At the end of the field were some woods. Jack led Gaia to the edge of the trees and paused at an opening. He beckoned Gaia to come alongside him and pointed through a gap. There was a large open area beyond the trees, and in the centre were a herd of large white cattle. They were all the cleanest and purest white. Some had long curled horns, and swishing tales with tufts of hairs on the end. Others were slightly smaller and without horns. There were the calves, suckling from bulging udders. It was a large herd, maybe forty or fifty in total. Gaia gazed in wonder, transfixed by their majesty and beauty. The beasts were like nothing she had ever seen. The horned cattle looked proud, muscular and strong. They were alert, looking all ways, keeping watch and protecting the others. Jack whispered to Gaia.

  ‘They’re a special herd called the Chillingham cattle. They’ve been here for centuries. No-one knows where they came from, but this is their domain. I watch over them. They know me, trust me, and the mothers let me milk them.’

  Gaia looked on, mesmerised.

  ‘They’re so beautiful. They look so pure.’

  ‘They’re magnificent creatures, but you must be wary of them. They don’t take to strangers. The bulls are wild, and a bit mad.’

  The calves that had finished feeding were playing, butting heads with one another, chasing, and skipping as the adults watched on. Their mothers and fathers stood protecting them. Parents Gaia had never known. Gaia thought about Jack’s words, the centuries they had lived here in this small part of the world, how no one owned them, how they lived wild and free to roam as they pleased. Jack took Gaia by the arm.

  ‘Come with me.’

  The old man led Gaia along the edge of the hedgerow that lined the fence, and further down the hill to the far side of the woods. There was a gap which Jack ushered Gaia through. They entered the woods and stopped after a few yards. About six feet away lay the corpse of a calf. It was rotting, flies hovering over its decaying flesh, maggots devouring it. The once bright shiny white carcass was now dull and grey. Its head was large and deformed, the mouth open in anguish.

  ‘This is the thing you have to understand with the herd. They’re pure and breed only amongst themselves, so they’ve got a very narrow gene pool. That creates all sorts of problems, birth defects and mutations like this calf. When a calf is born, one of the males checks it over. If it’s pure it’s welcomed and reared by the herd. If there is anything wrong with it, even down to a marking on its hide, it’s taken away and left in the woods to die.’

  ‘What? Murdered!’

  ‘Yes. Murdered for the greater good. The herd can only survive if it maintains its purity, and doesn’t become contaminated. They won’t tolerate impurity, as it threatens their survival, and the survival of the herd is everything. That’s why the males are crazy. They’re inbred and that can lead to madness. Narrow gene pools, you see. It always leads to these problems. So what you see with the herd, it comes at a price. All is not what it seems.’

  Jack led Gaia out of the woods, into the field and back up the hill. The sun was much higher in the sky now. It looked like a bright, warm day was ahead. The Chillingham cattle were etched on Gaia’s mind. Purity at all costs, and the preservation and survival of the herd. The sacrifice of the individual for the greater good. These were all things she knew well.

  ‘Were you ever a part of the community Jack?’

  ‘Not really. Not as you know it. Look at my eyes. What do you see?’

  Jack stopped and faced Gaia, stretching his face, his eyes open wide.

  ‘They’re brown.’

  ‘Exactly. You know what that means to the community. I’m not pure. I’m contaminated.’

  They moved on and Jack continued.

  ‘I was one of the survivors. Me and my wife. We were both very young when the poison came and everything collapsed, but we got through it. In the early days those that were left found each other and formed groups. It was the best way to survive. Those days were scary, everything was in chaos, it was lawless. People designated themselves leaders, and tried to organise things. They claimed it was better. Then came those that wanted to cleanse the community of the unwanted. Criminals were banished at first, then any dissenters, anyone who didn’t agree with how things were being run. Things got more extreme.’

  Jack paused for a moment, bent forward hands on his knees, catching his breath.

  ‘The leaders issued decrees to purify the community. At first it was all about identifying the outsiders and segregating them, but people started to be expelled, more and more of them. Rumours started to spread that people were being murdered or fed to the creatures. It was madness. They started to set out more and more definitions of who were the pure. Then it was eye colour.’

  Jack’s voice trembled. He was still out of breath, but Gaia knew it was more than that. Recounting those times must have been difficult.

  ‘Only those with blue eyes were classed as pure. Me and my wife knew we weren’t safe so we fled, along with many good people. The paranoia and obsession with control all led to what you were and not who you were. The community made us all criminals. We fled north, as we’d heard it was quieter here, that few had survived. We wanted to get as far away as possible from the madness. We found the farmhouse abandoned, and decided to make it our home. So that was how it happened. That was the community I knew.’

  Gaia was shocked by Jack’s account, horrified by the way the community had developed, the things it had done to the others. They were innocents, people who were persecuted just for being different. All her life Gaia had been shaped by the community, her thoughts, memories, and history were all implanted by the leaders. Everything Gaia thought she knew, all she had ever known was only ever the community’s story. The young were given no other perspective or accounts. Now Gaia knew all she had been told by the leaders was a lie.

  ‘I hadn’t realised it was this way. That’s not the story the community told us. We’ve always been taught to be wary of the outsiders, that they’re all criminals and dangerous.’

  ‘They would tell you that. It’s all part of the control. Do I look dangerous? What do you remember of your childhood Gaia?’

  Gaia could remember very little. There were flashing images, mainly of the old house and the dormitory where she was nurtured. The memory of the night before came to her again. The sense of being in the glass chamber as a baby. Were those memories or simply a dream?

  ‘I’ve some memories of a house where I was brought up with other children, but before that. I don’t know. I have dreams which may be memories of being a baby. I’m in some kind of glass incubator with lots of other babies.’

  Jack stopped walking. He turned and took Gaia’s hand. His voice was calm and quiet. Tears were in his eyes.

  ‘I’m pretty sure they’re memories Gaia. Look at you and your friends and how you’ve been raised. The community breeds babies, in labs, like factories. There are no families. Your parents will exist somewhere, but not as parents just as egg and sperm donors. You’re bred to maintain that purity.’

  Jack took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes.

  ‘The community is obsessed with survival and the leaders control of every aspect of life. Everything, especially childhood. They’ve stolen the joy of growing up, of belonging to a loving family and knowing your parents. You’ve all been engineered to perform a function, manufactured for the community to ensure its survival. That is all you are to them.’

  Gaia could see the sorrow and pity seeping from every pore. Tears still trickled from Jack’s brown eyes, and his lips shook with emotion. Gaia knew it was true, maybe she had always known the truth. That w
as what drove her to escape the community, the lie she was living. The outside world was dangerous, and Gaia would face tough choices, but they would be her dangers to confront, and her decisions. Gaia would rather live a life in peril and die free, than spend the rest of her life being moulded by the community. She took Jack’s hand.

  ‘You’re right Jack, but not anymore. That’s why I fled the island, why I had to escape There’s something else out there for us. We’ve heard there are others, good people like you. There’s another community where things are different and people are free. It’s in the hills. Aran has a letter. I’ve seen it.’

  Jack wiped his eyes again, and nodded.

  ‘There are others out there. I’ve heard the same, and met many good people over the years. I hope you find them, I really do, but please be careful. Not everyone is good.’

  Jack squeezed Gaia’s hand and smiled. It was warm and sincere, from a pure heart. The old man’s eyes began to sparkle again.

  ‘We need to get back and wake your friends. You have to get going. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you.’

  They set off and soon passed through the wooden gate, following the final stretch of dirt track that led to the farmhouse. They reached the door and kicked off their boots. Gaia went in the living room to wake the others, while Jack prepared some food in the kitchen for their journey. Gaia and the others gathered their things and packed. Jack insisted they take the provisions he had put together. There was some homemade bread, milk, cheese, and dried chicory leaves.

  As they were about to leave and say goodbye Gaia took something from her rucksack. It was a necklace of St Cuthbert’s beads. She approached Jack, hugged him, and placed the necklace around his neck.

  ‘I want you to have this Jack. I made it myself. The beads are fossilised shells from the island. They’re unique to a particular beach. It’s my beach.’

  Jack took out his handkerchief and dabbed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Gaia and squeezed, as though he never wanted to let go.

  ‘Thank you.’

  The group put on their boots and prepared to leave, everyone thanking Jack and saying more farewells. Jack followed them through the courtyard to the beginning of the dirt track.

  ‘Take care and whatever you do, avoid the woods.’

  They set off down the track, while Jack remained at the top of the hill waving them goodbye. As Aran opened the gate at the bottom of the track, Gaia turned to wave at Jack one more time. The old man had gone.

  12

  The group walked for hours, through green fields and golden meadows speckled with red poppies and a rainbow of wild flowers. They climbed fences, leapt over brooks, ate wild berries, and the bread and cheese that Jack had given them. They drank the sweet milk from the Chillingham cattle, circled large woodland, and clambered up gentle hills. There was little conversation, each locked in thought, as they pressed on at a good pace. Aran was determined to make progress, and Freya followed his lead. Yann seemed to be in a world of his own, playful and dreamy, lost without the need for words. Gaia was preoccupied. Jack had thawed some of the ice she had used to protect her. Gaia tried to survive by disconnecting her emotions, it had always been her way. The journey would require all her strength, but the time spent walking, the time to think again, had churned up all the emotions she had tried to bury.

  There was the sadness of leaving Jack. Gaia knew they would never meet again, and so did he. There was Clara, an innocent victim caught up in their plan. Gaia thought of Hakan. With little remorse for his death, Gaia was struggling to deal with what she had done and what it made her. Gaia was now a killer, not of creatures, but people, a murderer. There had been thoughts of killing people, mostly Kali, but a line had been crossed. Crossing it had been easy, the aftermath of emotion was not. Finally, Gaia thought of Aran. He had awoken something inside her, feelings she had not experienced before, and had not wanted to experience. Part of the reason Gaia agreed to escape was she wanted to be with him. Gaia could not stand the thought of staying on the island alone, wondering if he had made it, and was still alive. However, Aran was distant and only concerned with the escape. Aran said he needed her, but Gaia hoped this meant more than just her skills. She had hoped that Aran felt something, but there was little sign of that so far. Aran’s only interest was the journey, finding the river, and leading them to the hills.

  It was late afternoon, and the group reached the brow of a small hill that looked down into a deep valley. A line of trees snaked inland. Through them there were the calm, flowing waters of a river. Aran stopped and savoured the glorious view. This is what he had been looking for, the next stage of their journey completed, the next milestone reached. Rivers flow to the sea from the trickle of a tiny source. Their birth lies far off in the hills. In this case the Cheviots hills of north Northumberland. Find the hills and they would be found was the message. Aran inhaled the crisp, fresh air, a feeling of triumph sweeping through him. Yann approached Aran and patted him on the shoulder.

  ‘We found it. Now what?’

  ‘We head down towards the woods. We’ll follow the edge of the treeline up the valley, and that’ll lead us to the hills.’

  Freya sat on the grass and removed her rucksack. She lay back and closed her eyes.

  ‘Can we rest a bit. I’m knackered.’

  ‘No. We’ll head down to the trees and find a spot near the river. We can rest there for a few hours.’

  Aran picked up Freya’s rucksack and dropped it on her stomach. Freya jumped at the shock of the weight. She sighed and stood again, and started to make her way down the hill at a brisk pace. The others followed. Gaia moved up beside Aran, with Yann trailing behind. Now Freya was leading and driving the pace. Gaia spoke to Aran.

  ‘Do you think they’re far behind?

  ‘I don’t know. They probably waited for the tide to drop, unless they used the boats. They’d have been able to cross early morning anyway. Let’s hope they didn’t find anything until then. I knew there was a river if we headed north, but it’s much farther than the one to the south. I’m hoping they’ll head for the other one thinking we would aim for the nearest. Either that or they’ll head straight for the hills and wait to head us off there. Who knows? What would you do, if you were them?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’d probably split into two groups. There are only four of us. They’ll have dogs. If Kali is leading they’ll be close now. Remember I’ve killed a leader. This isn’t just an escape, it’s much more than that now. Jack mentioned the other runners and that they’d been hunted down. I reckon they’re more likely to chase us rather than head us off. I hope you’re right and they’ve gone south, but we can’t take any chances.’

  Aran frowned, still pushing forward, trying to keep pace with Freya who was almost jogging up ahead.

  ‘You’re right. We can’t afford to hang around. We need to keep moving, and rest when we can.’

  ‘Will we keep going through the night?’

  ‘Yes. They’ll try to avoid traveling at night. They’ll think it’s too dangerous, so we need to make the most of that to keep ahead. The hills aren’t that far away, and there’ll be plenty of time to rest when we get there. We have to keep going. We know what the leader’s are capable of.’

  Aran and Gaia exchanged looks, as Gaia spoke.

  ‘OK. I’ll let you break it to the others. Freya doesn’t look in the best of moods.’

  At Freya’s swift pace the group soon approached the woods. The sun was beginning to plunge into the line of the horizon. In a short while it would disappear and darkness would be upon them. The sky was clear and the moon would once again act as their guide and light the way. The moon would also highlight their presence to predators and their hunters. The woods would provide some protection. If the group stayed close to its edge, but still out of view they would see anyone creeping over the line of the valley above. That would be the only warning, buying them some time, but not much. Gaia hoped Aran was right and the leaders had headed south,
and would not travel at night, but she had her doubts.

  The group rested in the woods for a short while, ate some food and drank the remainder of the milk. Aran told the others of the plans for the night. Yann shrugged his shoulders, while Freya was less impressed, but showed no dissent. Freya was edgy and moody. Throughout the journey she had kept looking behind as if expecting to be caught at any moment. Gaia was watching her, wary and still not convinced Freya could be trusted. Freya’s nervous mood and twitchy behaviour only made Gaia question her more. Something was not right. Gaia could sense it, and would continue to be careful around her. Freya would show her hand at some point, and when the moment came Gaia would be ready.

  Darkness had swept across the sky, the moon puncturing it with its cold white light. The group walked along the edge of the woods, using the trees as a flimsy disguise. The trees were thin enough to ensure the moonlight broke through and the group were not lost in total darkness. The undergrowth was light enough to forge a path without too much trouble, and just the occasional stumble. The only sounds were the crunch of boots as they stepped on the fallen twigs and branches. Gaia heard the hoot of an owl, its distinctive call far off in the woods, echoing in the night, a haunting sound. There was the odd rustle of leaves in the bushes, a night creature startled by their presence, darting to safety deeper in the thick blanket of vines. Gaia heard the sound of rushing water to their right, as the edge of the wood thinned and the river cut close by. It faded and the quiet returned, with only the rhythm of their steps to accompany them.

  They arched around a bend and came to an opening in the woods. Before them, lit by the moonlight was a huge silvery web. Each strand glistened in the night as beads of condensation flickered a hazy glow from the shafts of moonbeams. The web stretched across the opening blocking their route. At its centre was a gorgeous pattern of intricate lines with long, thick strands of silver rope reaching out to the trees beyond. Each strand supported the main elaborate structure. It looked like a silver obstacle on a magical assault course.