Clover

by Lisa Jade

  “So,” he says, “what happened out there?”

  I bite my lip.

  “I-I’m not exactly sure. One of my friends snapped. He attacked a Guard for some reason. It was stupid. It was like he wanted to get in trouble.”

  Rian looks over his glasses at me, one eyebrow raised.

  “And why would he want that?”

  I shake my head.

  “I don’t know. Maybe… maybe he wanted to go to the Mines?”

  “Why would he want that? Do you think that maybe he knows someone down there?”

  I fall silent. I hadn’t considered that. If one of Kane’s friends were in the Mines, no wonder he wanted to go after them. Even so, it wasn’t worth the risk. They could have wiped his memory blank and tossed him into the Mines to work as a brainless drone. They still might.

  “Maybe. I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know.”

  Rian presses his finger together and leans towards me.

  “And how do you feel about what he did?”

  My hands clench. I could describe how I’m feeling in a million different ways. Angry. Confused. Betrayed.

  I open my mouth, and a word falls out.

  “Conflicted.”

  He watches me, his face carefully blank, and I realise what I just said. I clear my throat.

  “Um. Sorry. It’s not…”

  “Hey, it’s alright. You’re not in trouble. It’s normal to be a little unnerved.”

  I nod, happy that at least I’m not making things worse. He lifts a pen to his mouth and chews on it. He’s clearly thinking something over.

  “Alright. I think I’ve got something for you. Are you alright with pulling loaded carts?”

  I nod.

  “Good. I think I know the perfect thing.”

  I follow Rian to the loading bay, my stomach still a little uneasy. I should have known. I’m going to be put on loading duty. I suppose it’s the best punishment I could have hoped for; it might even be easier than working in the fields. He turns around and points into the road, where a number of trucks are pulling into the Mill.

  “These guys are taking supplies into Thorne.”

  “Okay. So I’m loading the vehicles?”

  There are a lot of them – I hope I don’t have to load them all alone. But he shakes his head and gestures over my shoulder.

  “Not quite. I’ve got something smaller for you.”

  I follow his gaze to a cart. It’s different from the ones I’m used to; it’s made of sturdy metal rather than wood, and seems to be adorned with all kinds of fiddly-looking straps and fastenings.

  “The cart?”

  “Yep. You’re going to load that up with everything on this list…”

  He hands me a scrap of paper and I stare at it, fighting to make out the words. Reading isn’t exactly a useful skill around here. We learn how at Homestead, but it’s been years and I fear it’ll take a while to decipher Rian’s spider-like scribbles.

  “You’re going to take it to Thorne for me.”

  I gasp.

  “Do you want me to take the cart to the Dock?”

  “Nope. This is a month-long, there and back trip. You need to load the cart here and not leave its side until you get to Thorne. Then take it to the place marked on the back of that paper.”

  I turn it over to see a crudely-drawn map. Thorne seems to be laid out in a perfect circle built around three points. A red arrow points to something close to the edge of the city, though there are several other areas marked with question marks. I don’t ask what those are for.

  “Loading it up isn’t a problem,” I wonder out loud, “but how do I get over the sea?”

  “You’ll be going over on a boat. But keep in mind it’s a long journey. Find a good boat to take you there. Once you reach the Dock on the other side, you’ll need to walk the cart into Thorne through the main gate. There, they might ask for a delivery pass, but you don’t need one. Just say you’re here to see Pan. They should send you right through.”

  I clutch the paper tightly, not wanting to ask the question. What happens if they don’t send me right through? What then?

  “What’s the delivery for?”

  I feel rude just asking, like I’m daring to question the Guard, but he doesn’t take offense. Instead he just glances around, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear.

  “It’s just a small group that has some high-need individuals. They require a surplus of supplies every month, so we send them separately.”

  I can’t help but smile at that. It’s easy to demonise everything the Guard does, but thinking of some tiny family getting their surplus of supplies every month is pretty nice.

  “So what do you think?” Rian asks, “Can you do it?”

  I consider it for a moment. I’ve never been all that interested in the city. Sometimes I would spot the luminescent glow in the distance on a particularly dark night, but I never gave any thought to what it meant. But I suppose it’s an easy way out of my punishment. A whole month of just walking. It’s positively luxurious compared to a month of chopping wood or digging holes. My stomach still twists nervously at the thought of Kane in the Mines, but I put the feeling aside for now. He made his choice. Time I made mine.

  “Absolutely, sir. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  He smiles, but then his expression falters a little and he lowers his voice.

  “There are a few important things you need to know before you go. First of all, this is not a regular delivery. Do not let anyone other than Pan take ownership of the goods.”

  “How will I know who Pan is?”

  “She’s… just trust me. You’ll know her when you see her. But don’t let anyone else know what it’s for. If they ask who you’re taking it to, you don’t know. If they ask what’s in it, you don’t know. If they ask who sent you…”

  “I don’t know.”

  He seems satisfied by that.

  “Precisely. As far as they know, you’re just a Millchild. Okay?”

  Millchild. It’s a name I’ve heard thrown around a few times in the past. A snobbish title given to Mill workers by city folk. I always found it somewhat patronising, not that I care all that much. Something doesn’t sit right about sneaking around. But this isn’t Thorne; I don’t answer to their laws. This is the Mill, and the only orders I have to follow are those of the Guard.

  Rian holds out a hand, and I grasp it without hesitation.

  It takes a few hours, but eventually I finish packing the cart. I push the last wooden crate onto it and sigh. Rian steps up behind me.

  “Looks good. Now then, I suppose you’d best be off.”

  Something stirs in my chest. I want to go back to the bunker for one last night and tell Nel what happened, not to mention where I’m going. I want to sit together in the dark. I want to feel her hand reaching over to comfort me; because suddenly, I feel like I’m actually in need of comfort. But I can see the trucks are finishing up, their heavy metal doors pulling shut with a clang that echoes across the Mill. I gulp hard.

  “Yeah. I, er... I should be back soon.”

  “Best of luck,” he smiles, “there are regular boats back so just come back whenever you’re able. Though keep in mind that if you’re gone more than a month, we’ll assume something happened and you died on the way.”

  He says the last bit a little firmer, and I feel nervousness prickling up the back of my neck. Though he’s been fairly nice to me until now, I’m still in trouble. A strange urge flickers in my chest but I shake it off. I’m not going to try and run away. I’ll do this delivery, get back here, and eventually, I’ll forget that any of this ever happened.

  I’ll forget that Kane even existed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I take off with the cart behind me, suddenly grateful for all the straps and ties securing its weight to my shoulders. The trucks take off too, but they’re much faster than me so they speed out of sight almost immediately. I approach the gate. It’s massive, a huge wire fence with G
uard towers on either side. As I near, one of the Guards lifts a gun and cocks it in my direction. He watches me for a second before lowering it. Just an intimidation tactic.

  A lone Guard stands at the gate, clipboard in hand. He looks bored out of his mind. As I approach, he barely bothers to meet my eyes.

  “Who’s sending you?”

  “Um... Rian.”

  He signals for the gate to open, and an alarm sounds overhead. Slowly but surely the gates’ crossed wire splits apart and the path opens up to me. I incline my head a little as I pass the Guard and take a step outside.

  The road ahead of me is nothing but dust, golden brown and surrounded by dirt and the occasional patch of grass. The road itself stretches out of my view and over a hill. I don’t know where the Dock is. It could be an hour away. It could be three days. But the direction is clear enough, so I start walking.

  The cart isn’t used to these roads; the paths in the Mill are worn down over time and are surprisingly smooth, but this road is uneven and filled with potholes and rocks. They knock at the wheels of the cart, tilting it this way and that, and I realise why this cart is so different. A normal wooden one wouldn’t be able to survive this road.

  As I walk, I make a conscious effort to keep my mind blank. Every so often Nel’s face comes to mind and I feel a pang of guilt – so I force it down and stare at a point on the horizon instead. Kane’s voice floats over me. You are going to regret this. I try to shake it from my head.

  Suddenly I stumble, breaking from my binds and collapsing to my knees in the dust.

  Believe me, one day you’ll wish you joined me.

  I stand up, ignoring the graze on my leg and the ache in my ankle. I don’t want to hear him. I don’t care anymore. I bite back hard on the lie and keep moving.

  It’s about an hour to the Dock. Once I reach the precipice of the hill I stop dead in my tracks.

  I’ve never seen the sea before. I knew that it was a large body of water, and figured it would be like the lake at the Mill, or the well in the crop field. Before now I’ve stolen a moment to stand by the lake and watch the liquid shift. I’ve seen how the light seems to dance off its surface, and how it’s somehow both clear and blue-green in colour.

  But this – this is something else entirely.

  All I can see is blue. It’s in every direction, as far as the eye can see. It shimmers in the sunlight, crystal clear and neat and perfect. Buildings lie somewhere below me, and I pause to watch the water pull inland, then push back out again. It seems to do it every few seconds. It takes me a minute before I remember the word for what I’m seeing. Tide.

  My eyes glide across the horizon. If I look closely enough, I can see where the surface of the Earth curves away from me, and the ocean sinks from my sight. Something warm stirs in my chest.

  It may be the first time in my life that I’ve ever felt curious.

  I want to know more. I need to know what makes the sea move, what draws it to the land and then pushes it away again. I have to know how the large, metal boats are somehow able to float serenely over its surface, calmer and steadier than any vehicle I’ve seen.

  I take a step forward, and as I walk down the slope I find myself picking up speed. As I get closer I can smell... something.

  I can smell fish being pulled from a net on a ship half a mile out to sea. I can smell salt and sand and rocks. I can smell fresh, clean air that’s unsullied by the filth and dirt that’s always filled my lungs.

  It’s amazing.

  I approach the Dock. There are people everywhere – mostly older men, bearded and rugged looking. Each one wears what seems to be standard issue Mill clothing, but as I get closer a metal gate opens in front of me, and I see hundreds of Guards wandering around too.

  “Where are you going?”

  The Guard at the gate lifts a clipboard. He looks fed up, too; if I didn’t know better I’d assume it was the same guy from the Farm.

  “Thorne,” I reply, “taking some supplies.”

  He reaches back, lifts the tarp momentarily, and then lowers it.

  “All clear. Go ahead.”

  He moves on and I breathe a sigh of relief. One of the men approaches me, wiping his brow with a dirty scrap of cloth.

  “Hey. Can I help you?”

  My instinct is to say no, that I can handle it, but I hesitate.

  “Do you know which boat I need to get to Thorne?”

  He just laughs. It’s a deep, booming sound that echoes across the Dock, but unlike at the Mill, it doesn’t draw any attention. Everyone’s too focussed on what they’re doing.

  “Are you trying to be funny?” he grins. I notice that most of his teeth are gone, rotted away into black stubs in his mouth. My own teeth immediately hurt.

  “N-no.”

  “There’s only one destination here. We send things to Thorne, then we get the empty bits back, along with any waste. We don’t go anywhere else.”

  I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness at his words. Looking at the vast ocean makes my throat ache. A tiny, tiny part of me wants to know what else is out there. Not to see it for myself, of course, but just to know that others go there would have been enough.

  He sees me staring and gives a dismissive wave of the hand.

  “Look, any boat will get you there. Just head for the Dock and someone will show you where to unload. Although, if you ask me...”

  He leans in close and I can smell his putrid, rotting breath.

  “I’d avoid the bigger boats. More Guards. Might get you there a bit quicker, sure, but you’ll be set to work right away. Pick a smaller vessel and it’ll give you a day or so to relax.”

  I thank him for his help and walk away. As I head off, I spot him grabbing what looks to be a giant spool of rope and throwing it over his shoulder. My strides are long as I walk the cart down the Dock. I’m a little nervous to be this close to the water. I can hear it all around me, like unnerving background music. I take a hesitant step onto the boardwalk and immediately pull my foot back. The wooden slats creak under my weight. I don’t think they can handle the cart as well.

  But then a man twice my size jogs by, onto the walk and out of sight. Confidence flares in my chest. If it can hold him, it can hold me. My first steps are slow, and I freeze when I realise that I can see the water rippling underneath me. It takes a fair bit of strength to keep walking, knowing that I could fall in at any minute.

  I’m not scared of heights. Even the idea of falling from a height doesn’t set my heart racing. But I’ve never been swimming before. It’s a recreational activity, irrelevant at the Mill. The closest I’ve got was working the crop fields after a flood. Pacing through waist-high muddy water, trying desperately to find something that looks half-way edible in the sludge... it isn’t quite on the same level as this. The water is crystal clear below me, but I can’t figure out how deep it goes. But I do know I would probably drown – especially with the cart strapped to my back.

  I’m surprised how much attention I seem to be drawing. Perhaps my diminutive stature marks me out more than I’d expected, but I can feel other workers’ eyes trailing after me as I walk.

  I wander for a little while, and then my eyes settle on a boat. It’s metal like the others, but smaller and far less crowded. There are patches of rust but it’s still somehow afloat. Two men sit by, one carving something out of a bit of driftwood. The younger glances up as I near and waves.

  “Hey. Need a ride?”

  “I’m going to Thorne,” I tell him, “I need to get this cart there.”

  “We have a decent luggage hold,” says the older of the two, lowering his carving. His whole face is covered in wispy white hair; it looks like he has whiskers. He reminds me of the badgers we sometimes hunt at the Farm.

  “It needs to stay in the cart, sorry.”

  “We can do that,” says the younger, “No problem. By the way, I’m Darus. This is my Dad.”

  “I’m Noah.”

  We set sail from the Dock j
ust as evening begins to fall. I stand at the edge of the boat, both scared to fall overboard and scared to stay put. The floor of the boat lifts and dips with every movement of the waves and I feel my stomach tightening.

  “Relax,” Darus tells me. He indicates to a chair towards the back of the boat. I shake my head hard and he laughs.

  “Oh, come on. This is a full day trip. You can’t stay clutching the edge for the whole journey.”

  I tighten my grip. So says you.

  “You’ll feel better if you relax.”

  I glance up at where the older man is steering the boat. Despite his age he seems to be an expert, working the advanced computer with total ease.

  “He’s pretty good with that thing,” I tell Darus. He shrugs.

  “Dad’s always had a gift for computers. Can’t say I’ve ever been that good with them myself.”

  There’s that term again. Dad. I clear my throat.

  “You keep calling him Dad.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s not true. But he’s been like a Dad to me. The guy practically raised me – I messed up about eight years back and got given a 'fresh start'. Damn injection. I didn't know my head from my ass. He was the only one who looked out for me.”

  I feel a pang of warmth at that. How nice. A family dynamic between strangers. There’s something reassuring about it. I grasp hold of the chair and force myself to sit down. The sea is mostly calm now, but I still wince at every wave. Darus laughs and leans back in the chair next to me, folding his hands behind his head. I watch him for a moment. He looks nothing like a Farm worker. He has the muscles for it, but his face is round and full and his hair sits in wiry twists along his scalp. He moves easily, and seems to have a permanent smile on his face. I suppose it’s hard to be miserable with such a beautiful view.

  “So, what are you taking into Thorne?” he asks.

  “Just a few supplies.”

  “Have you been to the city before?”

  I shake my head and he leans forward.

  “I’ve been… once. Years ago, because of understaffing.”