by Chris Ord
21
They moved at a steady pace. Gaia could feel the heavy, damp moorland beneath her feet. The rain continued to fall, lashing and stinging. The wind twisted and swirled, biting at their faces. Gaia could smell the damp air through the holes in the mask, taste it. Her face was no longer cold, wrapped in the protective veil of the balaclava. The mask gave no comfort though. It magnified her fear, reminded Gaia of how vulnerable the group were. They had escaped one web, only to land in another, a web of uncertainty.
Gaia listened to the world as they trudged on. It was a new and alien world. She was there, but was not there, passing through and knowing nothing of the place. All Gaia could hear was the soft, rhythmic crunch of their footsteps, the march, mixed with the rustle of clothing, and the odd weary sigh. She listened for the girls, but they were the quietest of all. The children drifted without a sound, floating, leaving no marks, but carrying many scars. The sisters were ghosts on the misty moorland. Ghosts guided by shadows.
They all came to a halt and Gaia was helped across what she was sure was a stile in a fence. On the other side the ground was different, the texture gnarled and uneven, the thorns of the thick undergrowth ripped and tugged at the trousers. The wind changed. It was less intense, but darted and whistled beside them, as though it were dancing through branches. Gaia could feel something around her. The rain had eased, but there were still droplets falling from above, less frequent and heavier. Something was breaking the raindrops fall, forcing them to gather, become larger and stronger. The group were in woodland, Gaia and the others being guided through trees, and round obstacles. Gaia tripped and lost her footing several times. The damp mist was now mixed with the musty smell of rotting mulch, and the faint, refreshing hint of pine needles.
They moved through the woods, stumbling in silence. Gaia heard the flutter of wings, some startled birds. It was heavy, clumsy flapping. There was the squawk of crows, many of them, a murder, a nesting site, a rookery. The crows sharp, shrill calls echoed through the trees more chilling than the biting weather, sounding like a warning, or threat.
The sense of being surrounded began to subside, as Gaia felt the wind pick up again. The rainfall began to prick and sting any glimmer of exposed flesh. The ground altered, as the clawing vines disappeared, the surface becoming heavier, grassy, and damp. The umbrella of trees had gone, and the group were open to the naked skies. Beyond the blindfolds the light had returned, but Gaia remained in darkness.
After a while the group were stopped and given water and food. There were nuts, berries, cheese and biscuits. Few words were spoken, only by the man who had addressed them before. They were functional, prosaic words, instructions and polite queries as to how they were, if they needed anything. There was only ever the minimum, nothing more than necessary.
They pressed on across the moorland, the rain never letting up. Gaia’s clothes were wet through and heavy. The water had seeped through to her legs, with skin clinging to the material. Gaia was shivering and tired, her spirit waning. The will to survive had driven Gaia on. The others needed her as she needed them. Together the group had to be strong, but now they were not leaders they were led. They were reliant on others, surrendering their freedom. Gaia was tired of the suffocating silence and felt the urge to speak.
‘Do we have much further?’
‘A few more miles.’
At first Gaia had a flash of relief soon replaced with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. What awaited the group when they arrived? What would the community be like? Who were these people? What did the future hold? Questions hurtled through Gaia’s mind. Questions she could not and dared not answer. She tried to push them aside, wanted to concentrate on this moment, the last part of the journey. Gaia had to remain alert. The group were vulnerable, their lives in the hands of others. For the first time in days the group were not relying on themselves. Their captors had been polite, with no sign of threat, but Gaia knew the potential was there, simmering under the surface. The others knew that too, and Freya would feel it most like a caged animal waiting to spring. Gaia needed to be there for Freya, for all of them. The group had to stick together.
The ground became firm and even. They were on a road winding downwards, snaking their way north west. The spin had not confused Gaia. The sound and feel of the wind began to die, as something was blocking or diverting it, and shielding the group. The wind disappeared and Gaia and the others were brought to a stop. Gaia heard a scraping sound, something large and heavy was being dragged across the ground. A large wooden gate opened and they were ushered forward by the invisible hands. Gaia heard the sound again, this time from behind. They had been led into something, somewhere. The group were here. Finally, they had reached the journey’s end.
As the rain poured down, Gaia sensed something different. Blind and in darkness, Gaia sensed more than ever. They were being watched, no longer alone. Their pace did not let up as Gaia and the others were urged on. The road was flat and even, Gaia’s footsteps firm and loud. They pressed on for a short while and slowed to a standstill. Gaia heard the voice of the man again.
‘Wait here.’
Freya’s voice echoed in the silence. It was the first time she had spoken throughout the trek. Gaia could hear the hatred and resentment in her friend’s tone.
‘Can we take these masks off?’
‘Not yet. We’ll take you to rooms where you’ll be met by someone. Your masks will be removed there. You’ll then get showered and changed, and given a briefing. We need to clarify a few things. I’m sure you’ll understand we need to be cautious. You’re welcome here, but there are rules we must discuss. All will become clear soon.’
Gaia thought of the girls, how they must be feeling. She wanted to be with them, hold their hands, comfort them. Gaia quizzed the man further.
‘Will we be kept together?’
The man answered.
‘You’ll be prepared and met separately.’
Gaia felt a rush of panic. She could not let the girls be on their own. They needed her. Gaia continued to press the man.
‘I want to stay with the girls.’
‘The girls will be taken care of. Now we’ll take you all to freshen up. You must be exhausted after such a long journey. It’ll take time to adjust, but try to be patient. We have rules and procedure to follow.’
Gaia was incensed, her voice was still controlled but her tone threatening.
‘I don’t care about your rules. I want to stay with the girls. Do you hear me?’
There was no response from the man. Gaia felt a firm grip take either arm. She began to kick and scream.
‘Did you hear me? I’m not going anywhere without them.’
Gaia heard the man’s voice. It was measured, firm and assertive.
‘I suggest you calm down.’
Gaia stopped struggling, relaxed and took a few deep breaths. This would help none of them, least of all the girls. Gaia could hear Aran and Freya struggling and shouting too. She spoke again, her voice softer.
‘Please. Can I have a few moments with the girls and my friends before we go?’
There was a pause and the grip on Gaia’s arms loosened, as the man spoke again.
‘You have a few minutes.’
Gaia was led forward, and could sense Freya and the others near. They had heard the response and had stopped fighting. Gaia waited, concentrated. Perhaps they were not alone? Someone could be nearby listening. Gaia felt sure they would be listening. Panic set in as her mind reached all around searching for sounds, a feeling, any sense that the people were there. All Gaia could hear was the patter of the rain, then she heard Freya whisper.
‘There’s something not right about this. I don’t like it. They’re splitting us for a reason, to weaken us. I don’t trust them. Sit tight, and play their game. We’ll wait till the time is right. We’ll get through this. I’ll come for you all.’
Gaia felt Aran take hold of her hand and squeezed. His soft voice whispered in her ear.
‘Gaia. They’ll say things to you, anything to break us. Don’t listen to them. Don’t believe anything they say. Do you hear me?’
‘What do you mean?’
Aran did not respond, as Gaia felt him edge away. Time was slipping and Gaia needed to speak to the girls. Crouching low Gaia reached out her arms to them, grabbing at the air until she found them. She pressed them tight against her body, feeling their warmth despite the cold and drenched clothes. The children’s soft, delicate hair brushed against Gaia’s face, as she whispered to them, her voice calm and gentle.
‘Girls, I know you’re scared, but try to be strong. I’ll come and find you as soon as I can and we’ll make things right. Whatever happens I will find you.’
As Gaia spoke she felt one of the girls wrap her arms around her. The other child followed. It was the first moment of recognition, a moment of tenderness. All three knelt together, locked in each other’s arms. Gaia felt the slow movement of the sister’s breathing. The children were so delicate and fragile.
There was movement from behind, a sudden change in the mood and level of activity. Gaia was grabbed by two or three strong people and led away. There were scuffles and cries from Freya and Aran as they too were led away. Gaia could hear fighting, shouting and screaming. Freya’s voice boomed from the darkness, her voice defiant.
‘Be strong. I’ll come for you. Do you hear me? I’ll come for you.’
The cries became muffled and distant as the group were dragged in different directions. There was no sound from the girls. Gaia stopped kicking and struggling. It was futile as the people leading her were too strong. Gaia was masked, unarmed, and outnumbered and now separated from the others. It was clear the people wanted things done their way. Gaia had no choice now, do as the people wanted and see where it led. She needed to conserve her energy. Anything could happen now and Gaia had to be ready. She recalled what Aran had said. The words puzzled and alarmed her.
Gaia heard a door being opened as she was led inside. The guards sat her down and removed her shoes and socks. Gaia was led into a room. The surface of the floor was smooth, hard and cold. The guards forced Gaia to sit, something firm and wooden. The grip of the captors loosened, and some left the room. Gaia sat in silence, listening and waiting, sensing someone was still in the room, their eyes looking at her. There was a tug and the balaclava was removed.
Gaia’s eyes struggled to adjust. Her vision was blurred and the light in the room stung. She rubbed them, blinked, as the pain subsided and her sight returned. Gaia was in a large bathroom, the light from the frosted windows dampened by wooden walls. She was sitting on a slatted, wooden bench. Beside her were some white pyjamas and a towel. A pair of tartan slippers were on the floor by her feet. In the opposite corner of the room stood a woman wearing the black clothes of the others. Her hair was short and black, and she wore dark glasses. Gaia looked for the woman’s eyes, as always, but could not make them out. The female guard stood up straight, staring forward, back stiff. Her arms were folded, a blank expression on her face. Gaia looked at the shower. Despite all her fear and apprehension it looked inviting. Her bones were chilled through, her skin wrinkled with the cold and damp. Now Gaia had stopped moving she could feel her body beginning to shiver. The female guard spoke, her voice cold and without emotion.
‘Remove your clothes and shower, please.’
Gaia struggled to her feet and peeled off her clothes. Shuffling into the shower, Gaia eased the chrome dial and waited as the water gushed out. She gazed at the ceiling, watching the steam begin to rise. The heat from the water and steam hit Gaia in the face, burning her lungs as she breathed. Gaia stepped into the cubicle and the sharp, hot needles stabbed her freezing skin. She shuddered with the sensation, closed the cubicle door and let the water envelope her. The water was comforting, caressing her, washing away her cold. Gaia remained wary and alert though, stealing sly looks checking the guard.
Gaia ran her fingers down the clean and smooth tiled cubicle. The sound of the rushing water comforted her. The water spiralled down the plughole, swirling to the start of its own long journey. It was on an endless cycle of change, river and rain, mist and moisture, ocean and sea. The sharp needles were restoring Gaia, washed over her aching body, and long, flowing red hair. As Gaia lifted her face toward the shower she let the sprinkles of water tickle her skin. The clouds of steam burst into the air and beyond into the room.
Gaia wanted to stay here forever, never wanted to lose the water’s soothing touch, leave its warmth and protection. Her mind evaporated into the warm mist. Gaia was a child again, a baby, not yet born floating inside her mother’s womb. It was dark and quiet with only a faint light seeping through her mother’s skin. Gaia felt safe and happy floating in this strange chamber, a world within a world, knowing no harm would come to her. The water whispered, singing sweet, slow lullabies, caressing her body, comforting her. This was where it all began, the start of all journeys. Gaia was back at the beginning, inside the mother she had never known, had been denied. The mother who should have reared her, fed and sang, nursed and kissed Gaia. The mother the community had replaced. It all began in water, the birthplace of everything.
Gaia drifted back to the world, the one she wanted to flee from. Her dream faded. Turning the dial, Gaia waited as the flow of the water eased and trickled to an end. The tingling of the warm needles disappeared, and the cold of the room began to creep in. Gaia leant against the wall of the cubicle, staring at the floor, letting the water drip from her. She dried and dressed, the pyjamas were soft and light, too much so for the cold season. Gaia sat on the bench and looked at the guard who remained upright and alert, with no movement or expression. Gaia played with her long, red hair twirling the wet strands around her fingers. After a while Gaia broke the silence.
‘Do you have a brush or a comb?’
Without any acknowledgement the guard moved across to the cupboard by Gaia. Inside there were shelves and drawers. The woman took a brush from one of the drawers and handed it to Gaia who thanked her and began to brush her hair. The ends were thick and matted, but soon she had moved through all the strands till it was smooth and shiny. The pyjamas had patches of wet where Gaia had been combing the water from each strand. She laid down the brush and stared back at the guard.
‘You don’t speak much.’
There was no response, as Gaia continued to press the woman.
‘So what happens now? Do I just sit here?’
There was a long silence, then a sudden response from the guard. Gaia was startled.
‘Someone will be along to collect you soon.’
There was a knock and the woman approached Gaia and picked up the balaclava.
‘Put this back on. It’s time for your briefing.’
Gaia looked up at the guard and down at the mask. There was a look of defiance on Gaia’s face. The guard was quick to respond, her voice more commanding.
‘Just do as I ask.’
Gaia placed the balaclava over her head and was plunged into darkness once more. She heard the door open and footsteps approach. Someone took her arm and led her from the bathroom along what seemed like a long narrow corridor. Gaia could feel the walls close by as the guard ushered her forward. They stopped, a door opened and Gaia was led inside. The guard sat Gaia in a chair. There was a sick odour, the thick smell of damp. It was familiar, her mind told Gaia she knew it, but struggled to place where. There was something ominous about the room, a feeling of danger. The smell had triggered something in her mind, lurking in the vault of her brain. Gaia associated the smell with fear and threat, with pain.
The door closed and Gaia sensed she was now alone with her thoughts. She wanted to cough, but could not. The foul air was beginning to burn the back of her throat. There were no sounds, and only the pitch black before her eyes. There was a long wait, seconds seemed like minutes. There was a sound, the door was opening, and a thud as it slammed shut. There were footsteps, slow and steady marching across the
room. They stopped a few feet in front of Gaia. There was a long pause, and someone spoke. At first her brain struggled to process the voice, but Gaia knew it - the voice and smell. Gaia was still in darkness, but she saw the room in her head, and the image of a face staring back.
‘Take off your mask.’
Gaia removed the balaclava. Her eyesight was fuzzy, blinking over and over. Things began to clear and the room appeared as the mist of confused colours took shape. Someone was there, standing behind a table, towering over Gaia. It was no longer a dream.
22
‘Welcome back, thirty seven.’
The words sliced through Gaia like a sword of ice. Rage bubbled up inside like lava, as Gaia stretched her fingers and tensed feeling each muscle and every sinew. Her neck strained with the fury running through her. Kali watched and waited. The light from an oil lamp on the table lit the leader’s tall, slender body, hanging over Gaia with the faintest of grins, mocking her. Kali’s arms were folded in triumph, as Gaia struggled to quell the festering emotion inside, feeling the anger twitching, reaching for the switch, fighting to keep control. A small chamber in Gaia’s brain, a voice of reason spoke, calming and reassuring her. Confrontation was foolish. Kali was strong, an unassailable opponent. Gaia was weary and unarmed. Whatever the outcome there were other leaders who would come. Gaia was trapped. The voice begged with Gaia to sit this out, not do anything foolish, play it through, find the right moment. Freya’s final words were ‘Play the game.’ It was always about waiting for the right moment, and this was not it. Where were Freya, Aran, and the girls? There was a stabbing pain in her chest.
Gaia listened, focused on the voice, tried to suppress the emotion. The twitching finger of her ire began to ease. Sweeping up all her emotion, she squeezed back into its box, pressed the lid shut, and smothered it. The pulse still raced, the breathing still frantic, but Gaia began to regain control. This was all about control.
