Fierce September

by Fleur Beale

  We were still absorbing that when Roop jumped up, her face contorted with fury. She pointed at me, her arm outstretched and her finger shaking. ‘That girl shouldn’t be here. She’s dangerous. She should still be in quarantine but instead she breaks the rules – again! She puts all our lives at risk. Again!’

  I was stunned by her venom. Mother stood up, her hand steady on my shoulder. ‘We will return to our quarters. We’ll stay there until the quarantine is over.’

  Sina stood too. ‘I too will stay quarantined.’

  Hera shouted, ‘You a mean lady, Roop.’

  Mother hushed her and we walked to the door as Silvern’s voice rang out. ‘I’m not going into quarantine. There’s no need. Juno’s not sick. She hasn’t been in contact with anybody who is, and there’s treatment available now.’ She sent Roop a scorching glare. ‘Get over yourself, Roop.’

  It warmed my heart, but I knew it wouldn’t endear me to Roop. As we left the room we heard an argument breaking out behind us.

  Three more days of being shut up and now one of our own hated me.

  We got in the lift, Hera stomping her feet. ‘I want to play with Merith. Roop is mean.’

  ‘Shush, darling,’ Mother said. ‘She’s just frightened.’

  Hera shook her head. ‘She’s mean.’

  ‘Are you worried too?’ I asked Sina. ‘I’m really sorry but it’s a bit late now, even if I keep away from you.’

  Sina thought for a moment. ‘No, strangely I’m not. Don’t know why – maybe it’s because these past seven months have been so difficult and I don’t have any worry left.’ She smiled. ‘I’m just looking forward to Jov coming back – did you hear that he’ll be back in a week, and so will your dad and grandparents?’

  That was good news, such good news.

  ‘Can we still go up to the roof, do you reckon?’ I asked as Mother opened the door to the apartment. ‘I can’t bear being stuck in here after all those days with Vima, then being out in the world for a day.’

  ‘No,’ Mother said. ‘We gave our word.’

  I knew she’d say that.

  ‘Read me a story,’ Hera demanded. ‘Three Little Pigs.’

  But I’d left my book behind. I wondered if Vima would read it. She might read the stories to Wilfred the way I had done.

  Late in the afternoon, my stratum came visiting. ‘You shouldn’t,’ Mother said, welcoming them in all the same.

  ‘It’s a bit late to worry, we reckon,’ Wenda said. ‘And anyway, we’ve got work to do, according to grandpa here.’

  Marba, as always, was unworried by the teasing. ‘We need to keep working on all this. For example, how many of you have checked the hate campaign today?’

  ‘None of us, I’m betting,’ Pel said. ‘But since you have, why don’t you tell us?’

  Mother and Sina left us to it, going across the corridor to Danyat’s rooms. Hera plopped down beside Brex.

  ‘So?’ Fortun asked, ‘the hate campaign. Has it stopped? Has it turned into a Love Taris campaign?’

  ‘Nothing’s changed,’ Marba said. ‘We’re still the villains, the evil bringers of disease, the foul fiends who turned on those who saved us.’

  ‘Damn!’ Paz thumped his fists against the floor. ‘I kinda hoped it was the lot that kidnapped Willem who were behind the hate stuff. Arrest them and stop the hate.’

  ‘They can’t have arrested the whole group, though,’ Marba said. ‘They must be well organised to have kidnapped Willem like that. There’s probably a whole bunch of them beavering away, working out how to hate us each day.’

  We tossed that around for a bit. It was possible. But Shallym surprised us. ‘I don’t reckon it’s them. I looked them up on the web. They’re all about going to heaven when you die.’ Before we could ask, she explained that heaven, as far as she could tell, was where the bit of you that wasn’t your body flew off to when you died. ‘They’ve got footage of people in long white gowns floating around, and every single one of them is smiling.’ She paused for a second. ‘Their faces must be stiff by the time they go to bed.’ Another pause. ‘Actually, I’m not sure if they sleep.’

  I thought of Grif and couldn’t imagine her in a white gown and perpetually smiling.

  ‘But it still could be them,’ Jidda said. ‘If they’re crazy enough to kidnap Willem, they’d be crazy enough to hate us too.’

  Shallym shook her head. ‘No. If you look at the writing on their website it’s quite different. They use different words.’ She gave a quick grin. ‘It’s lucky there’s the voice function, because the language is difficult.’

  Biddo handed her the mini-comp. ‘Show us.’

  She typed in a few words, working slowly and concentrating on hitting the correct letters. We waited in silence and were startled when a deep voice boomed into the room.

  Repent, oh you doers of evil, before it is too late and you are doomed forever to burn in the fires of hell everlasting.

  ‘Listen to this part,’ Shallym said. ‘It’s under the heading “The Evil of the World”.’

  The folly of secular life knows no bounds. Oh ye of little faith, repent ere the forces of darkness overwhelm you. Forsake your evil ways, turn your back on fornication, on adultery, on the empty pleasures of the flesh. Satan knows the flesh is weak and he knows how to tempt you with worldly pleasures. Turn your back on the world. Embrace the one true God. Before it is too late. Repent, ye sinners, that ye may forever sit at the feet of the one true God. If ye do not do so, know then that it is the howls of the souls in torment which will sound in your ears for eternity.

  There was more, all of it similar but none of it aimed at us. Nor was it written in the sort of language or the style of the hate campaigns we’d read or heard so far.

  ‘It doesn’t sound like them, and they’re not saying that this Satan character is us,’ Silvern said. ‘But if it’s not them, then it’s somebody else. And that means it’s got to be the group who bombed the wharf and let the virus loose.’

  We were silent, thinking about it. ‘But they’re in prison,’ I objected.

  Rynd said, ‘The ones who tried to bomb us are. But they’re refusing to name any others, and it must be the others who are doing the hate stuff.’

  ‘They must be a big group,’ Pel said. ‘They’ve got to have the expertise to make the virus, and enough people to spread it, plus all the people feeding the hate onto the net.’

  We tossed that around too, disturbed by the idea of a hidden presence finding us useful, stoking the fires of hate against us, releasing death in our name.

  ‘What we have to do,’ Marba said, ‘is to find out who and why. Then we can get them stopped.’

  If only.

  ‘We have to try,’ Marba said in his calm, logical manner.

  Yes. It was that or leave it to others – and we were the only ones truly to know we were blameless. Who would fight on our behalf if there was even a suspicion that the charges against us were true? Nobody, not now that Willem was desperately ill. We couldn’t afford to wait till he recovered enough to help us. If he did recover.

  We had no more ideas, and the others left to go back to their own apartments to eat dinner. I was sorry to see them leave. The days until I was out of quarantine were going to be harder to get through than the days with Vima. I wanted to do more than just sit here trying to understand why somebody was intent on blaming us.

  Dad and my grandparents called in the early evening and spoke of their longing to be with us again.

  ‘Not many more days now,’ Dad said.

  He didn’t say that he’d miss the work, miss being able to do what he loved. But we would all need to leave the Centre soon and move into the outside world. A world that hated us.

  I put Hera to bed and told her the story of Sleeping Beauty.

  Mother, Sina and I watched a movie. It was a comedy about three people trying to build a house that none of them really wanted but each of them thought the others did. It was good to laugh.

  W
e were having a cup of tea when we were startled by a loud hammering on the door. I went to get up, but Mother motioned me to stay where I was. She went to the door but didn’t immediately open it.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Police. Open up.’

  Sina and I stared at each other. Colour drained from her face – mine too probably. Mother flung the door open.

  ‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?’

  Three men in uniforms strode into the room.

  ‘Juno of Taris?’ the leader demanded, but he looked at Mother.

  ‘What?’ she took a step back, her hand to her throat.

  I tottered to my feet. ‘I’m Juno. What’s happened?’

  He took a paper from his pocket. ‘Warrant for your arrest. Pack some clothes. You’ll be held in custody pending your trial.’

  Nothing was making sense, so I took the paper. Couldn’t read it, not the way my head was swimming.

  ‘Hurry,’ snapped the man. The other two stood behind him, arms folded, faces grim.

  Sina stood up. ‘Wait. How do we know you’re really who you say you are? How do we know you’re not just part of the lies being told about us?’

  ‘Cut it out, lady,’ the man growled. ‘You, missy,’ he snapped at me, ‘get moving.’

  Mother shook her head to clear it. ‘No! Sina’s right. I demand proof before you drag my daughter off on some trumped-up lie.’ She stepped in front of me.

  The man hauled something from another pocket. ‘Proof.’

  ‘It means nothing to us,’ my mother said. ‘We know nothing of your customs. Call up your headquarters.’ She pointed to the mini-comp. ‘Let us see it. Let us speak to the person in charge.’

  They argued. Mother stood firm, her arms out to ward off the men even though they could have struck her to the ground as easily as blinking.

  Eventually they called. I began to believe them. The place looked like the station in New Plymouth. The uniforms were the same. The stuff on the walls. The man in charge was a superintendent called Smithson. It was he who told us why I was to be arrested. He read from a sheet: ‘Juno of Taris: accused of breaking the quarantine regulations.’

  Mother shouted at him. ‘But have you arrested the man who attacked me? That was the reason my daughter broke quarantine – to find me and her sister. To save us.’

  Smithson ignored that and spoke to me. ‘The charge is extremely serious, young lady. So will you please come now without fuss.’ He paused. ‘If you don’t, I’m afraid that emergency regs give us the power to bring you anyway.’

  ‘Wait!’ Mother shouted. ‘I’m coming too. She’s a child. She’s only fourteen. You can’t do this!’

  But he said, ‘I’m afraid we can. She’s old enough to understand the gravity of what she did. And madam, if you’d had to live through the pandemics the way we’ve had to, you’d understand exactly how criminally foolish your daughter has been.’

  He broke the contact, and it was just us with the three cops in our apartment.

  ‘Go and pack,’ the boss one said.

  I had nothing to pack except the few clothes I’d taken from Vima’s. I know Mother and Sina hugged me before the men took me away, but afterwards I couldn’t remember them doing so. I was so cold. And I was a criminal.

  ‘What will happen to me?’ I managed to whisper as the car drew up in front of the police station.

  ‘There’ll be a trial tomorrow. The judge will sentence you. Get out now.’

  I stumbled out. ‘Will they beat me?’

  The man holding my arm gave a bark of laughter. ‘Unfortunately, no.’

  I tried to jerk my arm free. He tightened his grip. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Zat so?’ Tell someone who cares.

  The iota of control I’d had deserted me. I thumped him with my other hand. ‘You should care! You should! Let me go. I haven’t done anything wrong, so stop hurting me, will you!’

  He dropped my arm as if it burned him. His boss snapped a low-voiced command at him and they let me walk without holding onto me.

  I was shut in a cell. The door had a window with bars across it. The bed was a bench with a mattress covered in something shiny, hard and cold, with blankets folded on the end of it. There was a toilet in the corner and a hand basin.

  I huddled the blankets around me and waited till morning. There would be no sleep this night. But when desperation threatened to swamp me, a song of Grif’s drifted through my mind. I felt her love around me and I slept.

  Have you heard? Juno’s been arrested and the trial is today. It’s not till eleven, but already Sheen, Sina and Camnoon have left with Juno’s stratum to go to the courthouse.

  Have you heard? Justa said someone popped up on all the Centre mini-comps this morning. He wanted information. She deleted him.

  Have you heard? There’s a huge crowd outside the courthouse.

  www.warningtheworld.blogspot.com Yet another outrage

  21

  FIGHTING

  IN THE MORNING A SILENT woman carried a tin tray with my breakfast on it into my cell, dumped it down on the bed, then turned and walked out. I was too worried and frightened to be able to eat.

  A different uniformed woman escorted me to the bathroom and waited. Did they think I’d slide down the drain? By the way she was standing, arms folded, feet apart, I thought she’d drag me out by my hair if I looked like disappearing.

  ‘What will happen?’ I asked her.

  ‘It’s the courtroom for you, missy. They’ll read out the charge, and the judge will sentence you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And I hope she locks you up for a good long stretch.’

  Fear shivered through me. ‘But … shouldn’t I have a lawyer or something?’ I’d seen enough courtroom dramas to know that at least.

  She shook her head. ‘Not under emergency regs. And not when there’s plenty of proof that you’re guilty.’

  I cringed from the venom in her voice.

  They put me in a car at half-past ten and drove me through the city to the courthouse. The day was sunny with wispy clouds in a blue sky.

  There were people waiting outside. They yelled obscenities, shaking their fists. Somebody spat a gob of phlegm that landed at my feet. Somebody else bellowed, ‘Kill the bitch!’ Others made it into a chant: Kill the bitch. Kill the bitch. They surged towards me, shouting, shouting, shouting. Now it was the police protecting me, hustling me into the building.

  I was shaking so much I couldn’t walk. The officers grabbed my arms and hauled me along.

  ‘In here,’ one of them said, not unkindly. ‘You’ve got about half an hour to wait. We’re running a bit behind schedule. I’ll bring you a drink.’ He patted my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, they can’t get to you. I’ll lock the door.’

  Being left on my own was almost worse than having the policemen there. I was shivering, shocked and scared enough to die of it. The drink the officer brought me was hot, and I wrapped my hands around the mug, trying to find comfort in its warmth.

  We’re here, Juno. Calm down.

  I jumped and the tea sloshed over my fingers. Marba. I strove to quiet my mind. Thank you. It was all I could think of to say. They were here. I wasn’t alone. Mother would be here too, and Sina.

  Gradually, over the thirty minutes, I did calm down, but not until the tea was tepid. I drank it anyway. It was sweet. The kindly officer must have done it – I knew about sugar for shock.

  It was he, too, who took me into the courtroom. ‘Just tell the truth, Juno. You might as well. The evidence is pretty conclusive.’

  ‘I’m not given to lying,’ I snapped.

  He raised his eyebrows, opened a door and motioned for me to follow him. He led me to the dock.

  An old man standing in front of the judge’s bench read from a sheet. ‘Are you the girl known as Juno of Taris?’

  I looked around before I answered him. Mother was there, holding Hera. Sina sat beside them, Jovan asleep on her lap. Camnoon sat on Mother
’s other side. My stratum sat in the row behind.

  ‘Yes. My name is Juno and I come from Taris.’

  Others sitting in the court hissed. The judge banged her gavel. ‘Silence, or you will be required to leave.’ It was then that I noticed the television equipment. Why? There was no time to think about it.

  ‘Will you take the oath or the affirmation?’ the old man asked.

  I must have looked puzzled because he said, ‘When you promise to speak the truth, do you want to swear on the Bible, or do you want to affirm that what you say is the truth?’

  It didn’t help much. ‘The Bible? I don’t know what that is.’

  More hissing, broken off as the judge lifted her head.

  ‘Do you believe in God?’ the man asked.

  I shook my head. ‘No. I don’t think so. We are rationalists. I don’t know what God is.’

  I felt rather than heard a wave of derision from the audience.

  The man gave me the affirmation to read. ‘I, Juno of Taris, solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that I shall tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’

  He consulted his piece of paper. ‘Juno of Taris, you are accused of breaking quarantine. How do you plead?’

  Like I had a choice? ‘Guilty.’

  The man sat down, looking pleased, I thought, to be done with me.

  The judge took over. ‘Juno, you realise the seriousness of what you did?’

  ‘Yes.’ I managed to look at her. ‘Am I allowed to tell you why I did it?’

  She frowned, considering the request, and into the silence came the sound of a door opening, of feet hurrying. The judge turned her frown on the newcomer.

  ‘You have a reason for this intrusion, I do hope, Mr Hainsworth?’

  The man, who wore a lawyer’s black gown, halted in front of where she sat up high behind the bench, and bowed to her. ‘Indeed I do, Your Honour. I have a much more serious charge to lay against this girl.’