The Blemished (Blemished Series)

by Dalton, Sarah

  “Where are you going?” Daniel called after me. “I thought we’d agreed to go back?”

  “I’m following him,” I said. “I have to. You two go back if you like, I’ll be fine.”

  I stopped and looked at my friends and in that moment I didn’t want to be like them. I didn’t want to have parents that disappeared or needed me to crush pills into their tea. I just wanted my dad, my reliable history Professor Dad who made spaghetti and dusted the kitchen cupboards.

  Daniel moved towards me slowly and put a tentative hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shrug it off. I didn’t need their pity. There would be a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything. “We’re not leaving you on your own. We’ll all go, but we’ll be extra careful. Okay?”

  I nodded, trying to ignore my own gratitude.

  “Now, come on, before we lose him.” Daniel lead the way again and I followed with Angela feeling a little numb and very terrified.

  *

  From the alleyway onwards our surroundings degraded even further. We passed smashed glass, boarded windows, crude murals, even cruder graffiti, burnt out cars and feral cats. There was noise coming from the distance: music, shouting and chatter and if I hadn’t known better I would have thought we were heading to a busy town. I saw the faraway glow of fire and lanterns.

  “They sit around bonfires,” Daniel explained.

  “The music?” I asked.

  “Musicians and singers play around the fires. There aren’t any houses in the slums, just huts and squats. There are a few warehouses filled with people and a few old pubs that are now brothels,” he explained. “One of the abandoned warehouses is the place where most of the Resistance meet. Many of them live there too.”

  “If the Enforcers patrol the area, why don’t they stop all the crime? And why don’t they arrest the Resistance?” I said.

  “They don’t know about the Resistance. At least I don’t think they do. As for the other stuff... well they turn a blind eye. That way they get... freebies.”

  “How do you know all this stuff, Daniel?” Angela asked in a quiet voice. It was obvious that despite Daniel growing up in her house he had never told her any of this or even hinted that he knew about the underground world of Area 14.

  “Some of the men I work with,” he said with a grimace, “are not the kind of men you would want to meet.”

  Daniel stopped walking and we followed suit. We had come to the top of a hill overlooking the Slums. Down the street I saw what Daniel had described; huts built in a haphazard manner, leaning on one another for support and made of corrugated iron, bonfires everywhere with people cooking food or dancing around them. The smell wafted up, a combination of alcohol, burning rubber and dirt. Narrow paths weaved between the huts and run-down pubs and old warehouses, on these paths roamed Enforcers, walking with relaxed gaits, their weapons at their sides, and in the middle of all this, was my dad.

  15

  “I can see him!” I said. I moved to walk down the hill but Daniel stopped me with a hand on my elbow.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “You might find out about things that you don’t really want to know.” He squeezed my arm gently. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

  I hesitated. Following my dad would be the stupid thing to do. Turning back was safe. But then I thought about how little I knew about my mum before she died, and how much I had always wanted to know about her. I didn’t want secrets between me and my dad any more. I wanted to know everything. I met Daniel’s eyes. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then we have to do things exactly as I say. Firstly, we walk down this hill sticking to the shadows, and once we get to the Slums we have to blend in. Avoid eye contact with any Enforcers. Above all – keep up with me. Okay?”

  Angela and I nodded in unison. I felt a gulp in my throat but ignored it and the three of us set off down the hill.

  “What are you going to say to your dad?” Angela said quietly in the dark.

  “What do you mean?” I replied.

  “Well, when you find out why he’s come to the Slums, what are you going to say to him? Are you going to confront him?”

  “I... um... I guess I haven’t thought that far ahead.” I paused. “What would you do if it was your mum?”

  “Mina,” she said with a sigh, “you’ve seen how I am with my Mum. I give her pills to help her sleep and I tell her lies all the time, like, sure Dad’s coming home soon or it doesn’t matter if you forgot to make me my tea. I’m hardly the expert when it comes to confronting parents. But, I dunno.” She shrugged. “I guess if it was me... Well, I think of it this way. How long do you really get with your parents? Soon we’ll have the Operation and things will change. What’s the point in rocking the boat – making things worse? Maybe you should just enjoy the time you have together.”

  “You mean not say anything?”

  She held her hands up as though in surrender. “Like I said, I’m really not an expert. But, those little lies between me and my mum, well they seem to make things better, you know? One day, if I told her everything, maybe it would change things between us.”

  “We’re almost there.” Daniel looked at us over his shoulder. “Remember what I said.” He frowned. “And there’s something else, something unpleasant.”

  “What is it?” I asked, wondering how much more unpleasant things could get.

  “There are teenagers in the Slums, like us, and they are often out on the streets at night which is how I’ve managed to blend in when I come here. They beg and,” he glanced at Angela, clearly wanting to protect her from something, “offer other stuff. Be careful of anyone who approaches you. Remember – stick together.”

  As we approached the hubbub of the Slums I looked through the huts and bonfires for my dad. All around us people stared with hollow eyes. It was a destitute, rank place, and I felt a chill down my spine. A woman to my right lifted up a short skirt provocatively as Daniel passed, her face was rouged, eyes lined in black, I folded my arms around my chest and wished I’d never seen my dad.

  “Mina,” Daniel whispered to me, “I see him. I think he’s heading to one of the warehouses.”

  I craned my neck and stood on tip-toes until I saw him too. He looked so out of place that it tugged on my heart to see him walking in corduroy trousers and a woollen jumper, a history professor in a den of iniquity.

  “I see him!” I broke away from Daniel into a jog, weaving between beggar children and prostitutes, trying not to look at the Enforcers as I passed. Behind me I heard Daniel shouting for me to wait, his voice growing faint. I didn’t stop. I was too close. I couldn’t risk losing him again.

  Dad ducked through a set of huts and moved around a bonfire where a woman danced to a violin player. I followed, keeping my head down and in the shadows – moving swiftly. The huts continued for another fifty feet and then began to thin out into a sort of courtyard of compacted mud. The courtyard was outlined by an old run-down pub and a warehouse. Dad walked through the centre of the courtyard and stopped outside the pub where a woman, slicked with make-up, lounged against the wall with her hand on her hip. My stomach sank. Could he really be one of those men? I stopped and hid in the shadows. Finally, he turned away from the pub and walked into the warehouse on the right. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  But I still wanted to know why my dad was there. Daniel and Angela were lost in the huts somewhere. I was on my own now and I had to figure things out for myself. Sticking to the shadows I made the decision to go around the warehouse and try to find a window or something to look through. As I moved closer I saw that just inside the front entrance stood a tall blond man with his arms folded. My dad nodded to him in and the man returned the gesture. My dad had been here before – he knew these people.

  I crept around the side of the building trying not to breathe heavily but feeling a rasp in my throat. I stayed low, bending my knees and back. I was good at being out of sight – I’d been doing it all my life. But all the sa
me I wished that Daniel was there to help me and tell me what to do.

  The compacted mud turned to paving slabs. Age had led to disrepair and I tripped over raised corners, pushed up from the undergrowth of weeds. The warehouse walls were concrete breeze-blocks, rough to touch. As I made my way to the back of the building I saw the large loading bays with steel overhead rolling doors big enough for vans. The doors were rusted and stuck just under a foot from the floor leaving enough room for me to squeeze underneath. I saw a low light coming from the gap. I dropped down to my belly and manoeuvred myself into the best viewing position. There were a number of people gathered between the empty stacks – the goods from these warehouses had been emptied years ago and shipped off to London. From my angle I could just see from their feet to their torsos. I had to move closer. I took a deep breath and wriggled under the door.

  I stood and immediately ducked behind one of the stacks. The shelving units were compact and climbed all the way to the ceiling. As I surveyed the area I saw people camping on the lower shelves, using them like bunk beds. Sleeping bags and pillows were strewn messily on the cold, concrete floor. I had no idea that people lived like this and felt ashamed that I’d taken my house and my dad’s privileges for granted.

  I looked deeper and saw a group of people, mostly men but with some women, in the throes of an intense discussion. I held my breath, it was the Resistance. My dad stood with a tall man in a leather coat. He had a short crop of dark hair and nodded along to whatever it was my dad was saying. I had to get closer if I wanted to be able to hear.

  I moved silently through the stacks without attracting any attention, placing my feet quietly on the cement floor, padding like a cat. Luckily the Resistance were in heated debate and unlikely to be easily distracted. As I moved closer I heard phrases like “It’s too soon” and “we need to do something” but couldn’t piece them together. In between two stacks, a few feet away from the group, I saw a pile of boxes and made my way to it. I crouched down behind them and watched.

  The first thing I noticed was how few people there were – perhaps twenty or thirty. If Daniel was right and it really was a Resistance meeting, this was poor. I’d always assumed them to be dangerous, a formidable group of militants, purveyors of organised chaos, not a group of tired looking people talking to each other with their arms folded. I concentrated my attention on my dad and the dark haired man.

  “Everything is set up, you just have to tell me when,” the man said. I saw him in profile now and that he was perhaps in his early thirties, good-looking and well built. He watched my dad with a nonchalant curiosity, almost arrogance.

  “A few months, maybe more,” Dad replied.

  The man tipped his head to the side. “That long? You know you need to get to him before they do.”

  “She’s not ready yet,” said Dad. “But you have the arrangements in place?”

  The man rested a hand on my dad’s shoulder. “What did I tell you, Brother? Relax and I will take care of everything.”

  I shifted my weight on the floor, relieving a growing cramp in my leg and inadvertently bumped one of the stacks, knocking an empty tin can to the ground.

  “What was that?” said Dad, looking around him.

  16

  It wasn’t just Dad who heard the noise – they all did. Oh crap, this is bad, I thought to myself. I had seconds before they found me and had to move fast. On the other side of the warehouse I saw several boxes piled up high in one of the stacks. If I concentrated hard enough, maybe I could move them like I did with the trestle table at school. But first I needed to conjure that same anger, the kind that flashes through my muscles and makes my fingers tingle. It was easy this time. I just thought of my dad.

  The boxes tumbled to the ground and the Resistance turned away, distracted. Making the most of my opportunity I ran towards the exit but in my haste I knocked over an old gas stove which clattered loudly against the concrete. A man with sandy hair and glasses saw me as I darted through stacks.

  “There’s someone getting away! Look!” he shouted and pointed.

  I felt their eyes on me. All I could think about was how much trouble I would be in if Dad found me. I had to get out. I kept moving.

  “Stop!” someone shouted.

  They were pursuing me – I heard their footsteps. My breath came out ragged and my heart pounded. But I was still fast.

  “Matthew, follow her. Don’t let her leave.” A different voice this time.

  Another push and I was only feet from the door. The footsteps gained. I forced myself to move faster; my lungs complaining, my legs like lead. The sliding door loomed ahead. As I approached I slid onto my knees and shimmied through, catching my shirt on a nail. I gasped. The Footsteps were louder now. The shirt was caught fast. I ripped it free.

  “Hey! Stop!” called the man.

  I scrambled to my feet and set off at a sprint, feeling the breeze on my face and tugging at my hair. Behind me the door rattled and I turned and saw the man emerging from the loading bay – the man in the leather coat. He chased me and I put everything I had into getting away. I ran so hard that my calves screamed out in pain. The courtyard blurred past – whores a smear of red and yellow. The huts became a jumble of confused faces, music and the stink of smoke. I twisted and turned. Weaved and ducked. I ran and ran until I was certain he had lost me. Then, with sweat pouring down my back, I stopped and hid behind a hut. After a few moments I peeked out and looked around me. The man was gone.

  Just as I breathed a deep sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from my forehead I heard Daniel’s voice, raised and frustrated. Another voice replied and it was muffled as though through a helmet. I groaned. Daniel was arguing with an Enforcer. Now I had to go and deal with something else. We really should have gone back, like Angela said. I made a note to listen to her in future. I hoped Daniel wasn’t in any trouble and moved out from behind the hut, following the raised voices.

  “I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” I heard Daniel say. “Me and my friend just wanna make some cash, like.” He had put a hard inflection into his voice, imitating the accent of the Slum people.

  “Name,” the Enforcer insisted. “You are clearly Blemished not Slum.”

  I moved quietly through the huts. Daniel and the Enforcer were face to face. Angela nervously hid behind her adoptive brother’s body, her eyes wide and pensive. I looked around for something to move to distract the Enforcer; if I could create a disturbance hopefully it would give us enough time to run away.

  “Name,” the Enforcer repeated. “If you do not provide your name I will arrest you both.” The Enforcer took hold of Daniel’s wrist.

  “Get the hell off me,” Daniel said between gritted teeth. His face turned a shade of bright red. He pulled back but the Enforcer kept a firm grip.

  Daniel hid it well but I knew he was in pain. The thought of him being hurt sent a flash of anger through my mind and I felt my fingers tingle with anticipation. For a split second I actually enjoyed that feeling, the freedom of being able to do what I wanted. I focussed on the tin roof of a hut belonging to a drunk man slumped over a bottle of gin, my eyes narrowing with concentration. The roof began to shake, its foundations rattling. The tin jangled, sounding like a hollow metal drum. I concentrated harder, focussing on the searing heat in my mind and letting it take over, waiting for the release.

  The drunk man woke from his slumber just in time to see his entire roof fly from its foundations. He rubbed his eyes and watched it spin through the air and land three huts down on top of a dancing woman’s bonfire. He swore in disbelief, rubbing his eyes with grimy hands. I clapped my hands together as the Enforcer let go of Daniel. I heard him swear into his helmet and move away from my friends and towards the commotion.

  Daniel took his cue and ran, taking Angela with him. I turned to follow him but suddenly my legs wouldn’t work. They trembled all over and I looked down at my hands which were shaking violently. I felt empty, as though I hadn’t eaten for days an
d I doubled over, completely exhausted.

  “Daniel, wait,” I mumbled to no one.

  “All right there sweetheart?”

  The sound of the man’s voice chilled me to the bone but I collapsed to the floor, unable to get away. As I looked I saw leather clad legs and huge hobnailed boots followed by the leering face of the man as he leaned down towards me and smiled. His face came close enough for me to smell his rancid breath and his lips parted to reveal black gums and only two or three yellow teeth. I retched.

  “Get away from me,” I said my voice barely louder than a whisper.

  He ignored me and reached out with a filthy hand. I tried to swat him away but my limp and shaking hands barely made an impression on his large paws.

  “You’re a pretty one, in’t yer?” He grinned and stroked me with those dirty hands, nails filled with grease. I shuddered. “Look at her pretty hair.”

  He ran his disgusting fingers through my hair, slowly, moving down passed my shoulder so that his hand moved towards my elbow. There he gripped me, thumb and fore-finger digging painfully into my skin. I tried to pull my arm away from his grip but I was too weak. His free hand gripped the other elbow, pulling me closer to him.

  “Now, now, pretty,” he said. “No need to struggle. I won’t hurt yer then.”

  I felt bile rising in my stomach. I had to stop him. I had to get out of there. With every bit of energy left in me I kicked him between his legs. He grunted in pain and released me, folding over in agony. I turned to run, trying to make my shaking legs work but I tripped and fell to the floor. The man grabbed my ankle and pulled me towards him. I looked around for someone to help but no one seemed to pay any attention, they all pointedly looked away and I couldn’t call for an Enforcer because they would know I’m Blemished.