by C. R. Turner
Max and I traipse up and down the same tunnel for hours, extracting bucket loads of rock, and taking them back to the main room where I crush the rock to extract the gold flecks and the occasional nugget. Whilst it’s slow going, I’ve amassed what feels like four pounds of gold, which I store in an old oil can. Running low on food, I decide to put my tools away and head towards the surface to hunt. I pack our money and our gold into a crevice in a rock face, where no one will find them, and head to the surface.
Surprisingly, it takes us several hours to reach the surface, and it’s night time. We sit at the mine’s entrance and wait for it to get light. Max and I hunt and gather food from the surrounding area and return to the mine to cook and sleep. I continue to mine for gold from time to time but start to spend more time hunting and gathering food to build up our supplies. As well as being a good base to hunt and gather food from, the abandoned mine becomes a safe home for us. As we both settle in to the routine, the weeks tick by.
I sit on the ground, repairing broken lanterns. Max stands alongside me, his knees in line with my head. The main room in the mine is dimly lit by two lanterns. Max lowers his head until his nose is right next to my shoulder, then exhales heavily. I look up, laugh and push him away playfully. Max doesn’t lose his balance at all and retaliates by nudging me on the shoulder with a flick of his head. Although Max doesn’t exert much energy, I go flying over on to my side. Laughing, I jump up, run over and push him with both hands. Max loses his balance and jumps sideways. I wrap my arms around him and wrestle him on to his side. He playfully grabs my left leg in his mouth, and I lay helplessly on my back and laugh. I grab his head and rough him up until he releases my leg, lifts his front left paw and pins me to the ground. It kind of hurts, but I’m laughing too much to care.
Max hears the voices first, spins around and looks up at the main entrance, his ears pricked. Two flashlights shine down the tunnel. I jump up, grab the lanterns and run down one of the tunnels with Max right behind me.
We reach the small cavern where we’ve been sleeping. I pull out our money and the gold from the crevice in the wall and stuff them into my backpack. We head further down into the mine and find a narrow shaft leading off to the side. After going around a slight bend, I stop and put the lanterns down, call Max over, get him to lie down, then turn the lanterns off.
The glow from the stranger’s flashlights in the main tunnel gets brighter. Two men’s voices carry as they approach the entrance of the narrow shaft Max and I are hiding in. One of the men shines his flashlight directly down the shaft, lighting it up like day. Max and I don’t make a sound. The men continue on further down into the mine. Max starts to fidget. I place my hand on his back and stroke his fur to keep him calm. After what feels like an eternity, my eyes still haven’t adjusted to the darkness and my legs are going to sleep. I don’t even think Max can see, it’s so dark. Hoping the two men have left via another tunnel, and with Max starting to make more and more noise, I decide to relight the lanterns.
I reach out for my backpack, fumbling around in the dark, and accidently knock it over. When I open the pocket to get my lighter, I realise I’d left the flap open earlier. The lighter is gone. “Oh crap.”
I check all the other pockets to no avail. I drop the backpack and run my hands through the dirt. After several minutes of panicking in complete darkness, I stop. Max is sniffing at something. Although I can’t see him, I head in the direction of his sniffing and run my hands down his neck and over his head to the ground. To my amazement the lighter is lying on the ground right at the tip of Max’s nose. “Good boy, Max.” I say, patting him on the head. I flick the lighter and the immediate area lights up in a soft glow. Max and I are standing some distance from the lanterns. “How did it get all the way over here?” I pat Max again then light the lanterns.
We need to keep moving. Staying in one place for too long will get us both killed, or me drafted. We head back up the main tunnel. Towards the entrance, daylight starts to out-shine the lanterns. I turn them off and leave them there. Squinting from the glare, we leave the mine for the first time in several days. I adjust Max’s saddle and put the reins on. With roughly four pounds of gold, a wad of cash and lots of smoked meat packed away, we head off through the bush.
Chapter 5
After a couple of days, we’re getting closer to Paelagus. I’m excited to see the city for the first time, but also mindful of how dangerous it could be for us. We approach the edge of a hill and look down at a clearing on the city’s edge — upon piles of rubbish, people living in squalor and hundreds of tents and makeshift shelters. With no other way around, we continue anxiously through the slum.
There’s an eerie absence of people in their twenties or thirties, with mostly middle-aged to elderly people sitting around on timber crates. Smoke pours out of makeshift stoves, creating a thick haze that hangs over the city. This wasn’t how I imagined it at all. The smell is disgusting. A few young kids running around stop and look up at Max as he walks on, the adults seemingly more taken by me and my age than my six-foot-high Canine Maximus putting me in the sights of the Union. Realising that I’m attracting way too much attention, I pull out Marc’s scarf and wrap it around my neck and face till only my eyes and forehead are visible.
The slum gives way to rows and rows of townhouses and blocks of units, ruined by gunfire and explosions. Whilst most of them are still standing, there isn’t a single intact pane of glass, and many of the buildings have been gutted by fire. With so much damage to the buildings, rubble has been bulldozed to the sides to maintain access.
I look down with sympathy at a few elderly people sitting around cooking on an old wood-fired stove amongst the rubble. They look utterly defeated with nowhere else to go. I’m certain now there is such a thing as a soul, and if you’re not careful, it can actually be broken.
Hati is at its highest point, baking the city in a hot reddish haze as Skoll sets, and numerous starships crisscross the sky. A Union jet flies overhead, drowning the area in the roar of its engines. Nearly as fast as it appeared, it disappears behind the skyline.
I direct Max to turn at an intersection and soon we’re surrounded by markets with hundreds of people buying and selling food and handmade clothes in a frenzy of yelling, hands waving in the air and the occasional brawl. I search the markets for a blanket. The nights here are quite a bit cooler than what I’m used to, being so far north from my home town. With people paying less attention to Max and myself, I’m looking around at the assortment of goods being sold when I turn and see four Union policemen strolling down the road forty or so feet away. I clench the reins so tight I feel the edges of the leather pressing hard against bone. Sitting up above the crowd on Max’s back, with my scarf wrapped around my face, I make eye contact with one of the policemen. He looks at Max, then continues on his way.
Before my heart rate has a chance to return to normal, a man runs up, grabs my leg and waves a dead brush fowl in the air, trying to sell it to me. Max snarls, and not wanting to attract too much attention, I try to push the man away. He latches onto my leg harder. I yell, “Get off,” and kick him in the chest. He goes flying and lands on his back. Max’s growl gets louder, he lowers his head, and with his ears pinned back, the hairs on his back rise. Dozens of people look around, including the policemen. The man lies cowering in terror with Max towering above him, his deep growl reverberating. I glance at the policemen. They’re laughing. Relieved, I pull Max’s reins hard to get him to move on. As we leave, I look back over my shoulder. The police are moving on and the man is slowly getting back to his feet. I raise my hand to the man — a gesture to say sorry. At this moment, I feel no better than the Union police. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for treating someone so poorly.
We stop at a stall where an elderly man with a long grey beard and long grey hair is sitting on a timber box. He has a huge scar running from his left ear up over the top of his skull, where his hair no longer grows. His clothes are ragged and t
wisted old glasses that look like they’ve been run over by a truck, rest on his nose. Seeing me approach, he struggles to his feet grasping his walking cane in one hand. He grabs a brush fowl off his display, holds it up to me and yells, “Smoked fowl, five hundred.”
I yell back, over the chaotic ambiance of the market, “How much for a hindquarter?”
The shopkeeper notices the tattoo in Max’s ear and replies, “Three thousand.”
“No way!” I rib Max to start walking and the old man yells out, “Two thousand.”
I shake my head.
“Fifteen hundred!”
I turn Max around on the spot and yell back, “I’ll give you two thousand for two.”
The shopkeeper replies in desperation, “Okay, Okay.”
At his stall, I pull out two one-thousand bills, which I’ve kept scrunched up in a ball in my front pocket, and hand it to the shopkeeper. He puts each of the hindquarters in a hessian bag, ties the two together and hands them to me. The weight nearly pulls me off the saddle, and I have to steady myself. I sling a bag on each side of Max’s back, in front of his saddle so they don’t fall off, then rib Max to start walking.
By mid-afternoon we’re walking through the business centre of Paelagus. Rusting, disused vehicles line the deserted streets. One car balloons outward as though an explosive device was detonated from inside. The silence is a stark contrast to the noisy markets, broken only by leaves and litter swirling in little whirlwinds, and I wonder why the city centre was abandoned when the enormous buildings are nearly all intact. Colossal designs of steel and concrete extend skywards, and I tilt my face up in awe, having never seen anything like them. At an intersection, I notice a corner building with signs half stuck to the windows that read: “Biohazard – Do Not Enter.”
The ground-floor windows are boarded up, and the main doors are chained and padlocked shut with a large sign above the front doors: “Quarantine Area.” A faint blood stain covers the footpath. A single window is smashed, half a dozen floors up, directly above the stain. I look back at the biohazard poster. What horrors lay inside that would force a person to jump in a vain attempt to escape?
As we pass by, I notice more and more buildings boarded up, and hundreds of biohazard signs plastered all over the walls. I’d only heard snippets about the pandemic, when I was younger, but seeing the abandoned city now, causes a chill to creep through me. I’d thought the city would have recovered by now. I give Max a gentle nudge to quicken his pace. The sooner we’re out of this place the better.
The horizon is awash in brilliant reds and oranges. I startle when a bright flash catches my eye. An explosion emanates from a starship’s hull high up in the atmosphere. The starship immediately veers off course, falling from the sky. A few more seconds, and the blast wave hits us, causing Max to jump. The starship keeps gathering speed, now ballistic. It starts breaking up, first into two large pieces, then into four, before cascading into smaller and smaller pieces. Some of the smaller pieces burn with a blinding white ferocity as they streak across the orange sunset before completely burning out. I watch as the remaining pieces fall, disappearing behind the buildings far off in the distance. The area is dead silent again, and I shake my head, amazed at what I’ve just seen. Did the TPRA have anything to do with it? I wonder how many people were on board.
Hours later Hati has set, and as we continue on, we gradually see more people as the city centre gives way to indoor shops and places selling an odd mix of food, alcohol, guns and ammunition. Paper adverts calling for the public’s help to crush the TPRA and restore balance, are plastered everywhere. Many of the adverts have been defaced with graffiti supporting the TPRA. In the distance, more Union policemen lead half-a-dozen men and women, handcuffed and chained together, towards us. I look down at a girl not much older than me, and we make eye contact as she’s marched past. There’s fear in her eyes, and we gaze at each other until one of the policemen shoves her, forcing her to look forward. That could so easily have been me if it weren’t for Max. I hate to think what lies ahead for them.
As it gets dark, the streets begin to glow with street lights and neon signs, Paelagus city one of only a few places left on Terra Primus with electricity.
After searching the streets, and not finding somewhere safe we can sleep the night, I get desperate and decide to direct Max down an alley. It’s so dim, I have to trust Max to direct himself around bins and piles of rubbish I can barely see. At the end of the alley, Max pulls up and turns his head towards me as if to say “this is it”.
Max has a large chunk of hindquarter for dinner. I eat some smoked meat, then gather some cardboard and old newspapers for a makeshift bed. As soon as I lie down, Max curls up next to me, sandwiching me against the wall. I rest my hand on his back, feeling his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he takes. Max has such a peaceful soul.
This city is so foreign to me, although I never feel like I belong anywhere. I think about how I came to be here and what difficulties lay ahead. The dream of Arcadia is what drives me, but I wonder if that dream will also be the end of me … and Max. Should I turn back? This is the lowest I’ve felt since leaving home. “Max, I’m sorry for dragging you through this.”
The next morning I wake to the sound of a door slamming and am startled to see a plate covered in foil sitting on a step in front of me, a delicious smell wafting from it. I look up at the door, back at the plate and grab it, tearing off the foil and exposing a decent meal of bread, eggs and roast meat. People’s compassion for complete strangers still surprises me. Such a simple act of kindness fills me with gratitude and gives me hope. Max lifts his head, turns to me and licks his lips as I start eating. I smile. “No way, I haven’t had eggs in years.” When I finish, I place the plate on the ground and Max licks away to get the last of the runny eggs, causing the plate to slide all over the place. I laugh and hold the plate down for him as he continues licking the plate well after it’s clean. I find some charcoal in the corner of the alley, where someone has had a campfire, and a piece of cardboard. I write the words “Thank you” on it and place the cardboard and the plate on the back step.
I don’t want to look up as I walk towards the main street with Max by my side. I know I was filled with doubt last night but I have nothing and no one to go home to. As we reach the intersection, it hits me: my dream of one day making it to Arcadia is just too deeply embedded. I can’t change who I am. “Come on, Max. Let’s keep going.” Before I take another step, Max turns to the north and leads the way. I look up at him wondering how much he understands and how deep a bond we have. Perhaps he knows better than me that there’s no going back. I’m so happy to have him by my side. The best mate I could ask for.
I’ve been riding Max all day. I peer over my scarf, wrapped around my face, at the surrounding apartment buildings and shops as Hati starts to set on the horizon and the air cools. A man in a brown coat walks towards us, head down so it’s difficult to see his face. I don’t pay much attention to him until Max starts growling. I remember Marc telling me that Canine Maximus can’t bark and rarely growl, so I pay immediate attention. The man looks up. He seems of military age. Is he a member of the TPRA? Or a Union deserter? I start to panic. He’s only thirty or so feet away when he looks directly at me. At that moment, something else catches my eye, and I reef on the reins to pull Max up.
A Union jet drops from the sky, running parallel to the road, and screams past us in a deafening roar, kicking up a blinding cloud of dust and debris. I spin Max around so I can see the jet as it slows and lowers to the road. The crackling jet blast bounces off the surrounding buildings, smashing windows. The landing gear extends and large doors on either side of the jet traverse open. As soon as jet hits the road, over a dozen Union soldiers pour out, weapons raised, many of them making a beeline for the front door of one the adjacent buildings.
“Give me your backpack.”
I spin around to see the man in the brown coat standing just a few feet away, pointin
g an old gun at me. Max spreads his front paws, lowers his head and shoulders, then lets out a deep growl that resonates over the noise of the jet spooling down.
Fearful that the man might shoot Max, I pull on his reins and yell, “No, Max. No!”
I hear a deep roar and tyres screeching — three Union vehicles pulling up a short distance away. Two of the vehicles are armoured personnel carriers, and one is an enormous four-wheel drive covered in aerials and bearing a roof-mounted gun. Union soldiers swarm out of the back of the carriers towards one of the buildings. Max and I are sandwiched between the Union jet and the Union vehicles. Nowhere to go.
Someone is pulling me off Max’s back. I slam onto the concrete footpath hitting my head. Dazed, I barely react as the man in the brown coat drags me along the ground, trying to reef off my backpack. He finally gets it off my back and runs down the road. By this point dozens of TPRA members have emerged from the surrounding buildings, taking up positions on the rooftops and in windows. The whole area explodes in all-out war, energy weapons firing and explosions going off in a continuous thunder.
I clamber back to Max, put my left foot in the stirrup, jumping up and swinging my right leg over the saddle, then rib Max with my heels. He takes off towards the Union vehicles, with most of the fighting behind us. The man in the brown coat is running in the same direction. A stray energy weapon fire whizzes past Max and hits the man in the head. The impact is so strong it causes the man’s head to explode, spraying blood all over the nearest building and footpath. His body slams to the ground in front of the Union four-wheel drive.
