by Emma Pullar
Repressed coughs splutter behind me. Trying to cough quietly never works, but Bunce attempts it anyway. If he draws in any more sharp breathes before he coughs he’ll get high off the second-hand smoke in here. I sit our group down at an empty table, which is a broken door resting on a tree stump. Across from us is a male High-Host. He sits alone, eyelids heavy, he slowly puffs on a glory stick, smoke shooting out of his flared nostrils like that of a dozing dragon; my grandfather used to draw the mythical beasts for me alongside a woman wielding a sword. A halo of smoke circles the addict’s frizzy, teal hair which he wears in two buns high on his head, the lines at his mouth deepen with each drag and the puckered, dark skin under his eyes tells me he’s past his useful age; useful to Central that is. Cara stares him out as she lowers herself onto an overturned crate and crosses her spindly legs. She doesn’t blink, he’s forced to look away.
‘I’ll get us a drink.’
I reach into my pockets, then realise I have nothing worth trading. Bunce doesn’t either. My guess is his backpack was confiscated at the prison and I know Cara has nothing. Beside me, a small hand reaches up, palm flat, bag charm resting on it. I smile.
‘Thanks Tess, but I don’t think a Central bag charm will count as tender here.’
‘It’s gold,’ she says, still holding it out.
‘Bunce.’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘It is,’ he confirms.
‘Thank you, Tess.’
She drops it onto my palm, I curl my fingers around it and make my way towards the barkeep. When I arrive at the rotting plank of wood that is the bar, I’m surprised to see a young face; cheeks hollowed by glory use but she can’t be more than fourteen.
‘How much you want? ’She slurs.
She leans forward and props her weary body up on the bar. Two girls lurk in the darkness behind her, one braiding the other’s short black hair. The girl sitting wobbles to one side as the other one tugs her hair tight.
‘I’m not using, I just want some water.’
‘We don’t serve water.’ She throws the comment at me.
‘What do you serve?’
‘Octli.’
Her dry lips hardly move; every word an effort to push past her shrivelled mouth.
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
I glance over my shoulder. Tess picks up a used glory stick left on a tray at our table. Cara leans over, whispers in Tess’s ear and points to the tray. Tess drops the stick, a look of disgust on her face.
‘I’ll take three.’
I pass the bag charm across the weather-beaten wood bar. The barkeep’s eyes expand at the glint of gold. She reaches out to take the bag charm that dangles from my fingertips. I snatch it back up into my hand. Another young girl arrives and slams down three glasses filled with milky white liquid in front of me. She turns away, exposing a sheath on the side of her belt.
‘Any of you know where I can find Bullet?’
I swing the bag charm and the teenage addict follows it with her eyes. The other girls shrink back into the emerald material behind the bar.
‘No one finds Bullet,’ she says, hypnotised by the gold in my hands. ‘He finds you.’
I come to the conclusion that any enquiry I make of this man will be met with the same tight-lipped answer. I nod and drop the bag charm into the girl’s cupped hands. She cradles it like it’s as precious as a baby bird.
‘What happens now?’ Cara says, as I place the three glasses onto the table at once.
‘What’d you mean?’ I ask her.
She picks up a glass and touches it to her lips. Bunce sniffs the white liquid and screws up his nose, but sips it all the same.
‘I don’t ‘ave a purpose no more, I can’t seek employment and I don’t ‘ave a home.’ Cara takes a swig from the glass and sweeps her other hand through her dark hair, pulling tight curls off her face, then she reaches down and picks up the used glory stick Tess had been handling. ‘Maybe I should go the same way as my uncle.’
‘Don’t say that!’ I smack the stick from between her fingers. ‘Life can turn on the tip of a glory stick. Find a new purpose.’
‘Like what?’ Cara snaps.
I think for a moment. Tess draws circles in spilt glory powder with the tip of her finger.
‘You’re Tess’s new guardian.’ I say, hoping Cara will be grateful for this job. Skels need to feel they have a purpose otherwise they’ll end up like Don, hiding from the world in a glory-induced trance, slowly destroying themselves from the inside out. I hope Tess’s needs will marry with Cara’s.
‘What do I know about kids?’ Cara says, frowning.
Tess grins, elbows on the table, she rests her face in her hands and gazes at Cara like she’s her long lost sister. Cara winks at her new red-headed responsibility and says, ‘okay, but only because I can see how much this girl means to you.’
‘Thank you.’ I say warmly, and I mean it.
‘Cara will take you home, okay?’ I tell Tess.
‘Where you going?’ Cara asks.
Bunce doesn’t join the conversation; he’s busy pretending to study the glass of misty milk, while actually studying the array of junkies around us.
‘To change our lives,’ I reply.
I gulp down half of my Octli. It’s bitterly refreshing.
‘And ‘ow’s a Skel gonna do that?’ Cara asks.
‘A Skel isn’t,’ I reply. ‘I’m a host, remember? Creator of life. I’m gonna create us a new life.’
‘Yeah right!’ Cara scoffs.
Cara passes Tess her glass, which has only a quarter of the alcoholic beverage left. Tess lets the liquid slide down her throat and cringes at the taste. She frowns at Cara.
‘I need to go.’ Tess jiggles on her seat.
‘Go where?’ Cara asks.
‘Pee.’
‘Can’t you hold it?’
Tess shakes her head.
Cara begrudgingly gets to her feet. She takes Tess’s hand and leads her towards the back of the den where the barkeep sits. The girl behind the bar jerks her thumb to a curtain behind her, and the two disappear behind the cloth.
‘What’s the plan? Where are we going?’ Bunce asks under his breath.
‘We’re,’ I point to him and then to myself, ‘going nowhere.’
Bunce crosses his arms and they knock into the glasses, he quickly steadies them.
‘Oh no, you’re not brushing me off! Wherever you go, I go.’
‘I’m going to find Bullet.’
‘Are you insane?’ Bunce says, his voice a few decibels higher than usual. He throws his hands up, knocking over the empty glass next to the used glory stick tray it rolls across the table. ‘You heard what that foul woman said about him.’
I stand the glass back up.
‘There’s no choice,’ I say, lowering my voice in the hope that he will copy me. ‘I’ve heard the rumours. He’s dangerous …’ I press my lips together, a bedraggled woman in a black shawl is staring at me, she looks away when I meet her gaze. I lower my voice further. ‘He’s more than dangerous. A dead soul is what my grandfather called him, but he’s the only weapons dealer in the city.’
‘What do you need weapons for?’
‘I can’t go into The Spiral without them.’
‘The Spiral? You are insane!’ Bunce hisses, veins in his neck bulging.
‘I met a Morb, locked up inside Rock Vault. Old guy. Big, rimmed lenses like goggles.’
‘Bins?’ Bunce says, frowning. ‘They questioned me about him. The guards said if I knew what was good for me I should tell them what I was doing outside his lab. They said he caused the explosion with dangerous experiments … when I wouldn’t talk, they started sweeping my mind. Oh, that was horrible …’
‘Bunce …’
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to stray off-topic. Anyway, you couldn’t have met Bins because he’s dead.’
‘He probably is now,’ I say.
Bunce knocks the table with his knees. The glas
ses clatter together, he’s determined to draw attention to us. Clumsy Morb.
‘But why lie to me?’ Bunce asks, ‘Why say he died when really he was locked in a cell?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Why was he in a cell?’
Bunce lines the glasses up, away from his clumsy limbs.
‘He was uncooperative.’
I pick at a stone lodged in the grooves at the bottom of my boot.
‘What do you mean?’ Bunce frowns.
‘He refused to tell them where the serum is.’ My nail splinters but the stone is out. ‘Bins created the cure.’
Bunce’s eyes glaze over, like he’s left his body and will be back later. Why did he agree to come with me if he wasn’t convinced the cure was more than a rumour? I told him not to come. I said I’d go into hiding. He could have backed out. He took one hell of a risk on something he didn’t fully believe in. I click my fingers in his face.
‘Bunce?’
‘Wait …’ Bunce places a finger to his lips in thought. ‘Why would Central ask Bins to make a cure and then throw him in a cell?’
‘They didn’t ask him.’
I smile, thinking about the old-timer shouting at the prison walls.
‘Oh,’ Bunce’s eyes are wide. ‘He broke the law!’
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘and so have you, more than once. Look where you are!’
Bunce fidgets. It’s as if he’s playing a game and me saying things out loud makes them real.
‘Why not swear him to secrecy?’
I can see the cogs going around in Bunce’s head.
‘Control,’ I say, my eyes wandering to the glory stick tray; another form of control. ‘Central need to keep control of Bins, you, me, everyone. Without regulation and fear, they couldn’t live in luxury. They don’t do things for the good of the people. They don’t do what’s right for the city. They do things for the good of themselves, do you understand?’
Bunce nods.
‘It’s hopeless,’ he sighs.
‘It’s not hopeless. We know the cure is real and we know where it is. We just need the right weapons and …’
‘The right weapons? What we need is an army! Plus, you already have a knife and a gun!’ Bunce spits.
He crosses his arms, pressing his thin lips together until they are whiter than his skin. The way he always does when he’s scared to do something.
‘Look. We’ll need more than a handgun and a knife. The place will be swarming with guards.’
‘Like I said – Army!’
‘Keep your voice down, ‘I say, and slap Bunce upside the head. He moans and holds the place where I hit him. ‘We don’t have an army. Stop being stupid.’
‘Oh, I’m being stupid? Why can’t we sneak into The Spiral? We don’t need weapons if we remain undetected.’
‘Do you think we can breeze in and out of there like the wind?’
I cross my arms. Trying to explain something to Bunce is like trying to dig out a stubborn chunk of meat that’s lodged deep in the grinder.
‘No,’ Bunce says. ‘But we’re trying to avoid confrontation, right? Not go in there, guns blazing!’
Glass shatters behind us and a fight breaks out between two female Skels. The girls keeping the bar rush out to break it up. I slap my hand down on the door table and draw Bunces attention away from the fight and back to me.
‘Yes, but we need to be prepared for anything … why am I saying “we”? You’re not coming with me.’
‘Can’t we get weapons from someone else, a Slum Lord or something? I don’t fancy dealing with that Glory Runner. Anyone that works for Bullet ...’
‘No one works for Bullet. He doesn’t pay Runners,’ I explain. ‘He uses them as and when he pleases. All I know is, if Bullet comes to your part of town, you pay him with whatever or whoever you have.’
‘But if he moves around how do you expect to find him?’
‘Sib said she was going to take us to Bullet. She knows where he is and she’ll be looking for us.’
‘You’re going to use yourself as bait?’
There it is again, that voice twice as high as what’s natural.
‘Nah, you’re the bait,’ I smirk. ‘You’re the one who cut her mate’s ankles open.’
‘No way! No way in Skel Hell!’
The teenage bartenders hold the fighting addicts’ arms up behind their backs and force them through the curtain and out onto the streets. The other patrons haven’t noticed the commotion, too deep in their glory-induced stupors.
‘Look, Bunce, if the guards find us, we’re dead. If Sib finds us, we’re dead. If we get caught inside The Spiral unarmed, guess what? We’re dead! We’ll kill two birds with one stone. Get weapons and get Sib off our backs.’
‘I can’t let you go in search of someone who wants to, and I quote, “bang you raw”!’
‘Sib said that to scare us,’ I cough. The smoke inside the den is getting thicker. ‘I’m sure it’s not true.’
‘I can’t let you do this.’ Bunce coughs as well.
‘Excuse me?’ I croak.
‘You heard me. You’re not going to find Bullet. It’s suicide.’
‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ I’m getting sick of everyone trying to control me.
‘But it’s okay for you to tell me what to do, is it?’ Bunce snaps.
‘Yes, glad we cleared that up.’
‘You never take me seriously,’ he growls. ‘Stupid Morb, what does he know about anything.’
‘It’s good you understand,’ I say, calmly.
‘All right, get yourself killed if you want to, but leave me out of it.’ Bunce sighs. ‘Stubborn Skel!’
‘Mindless Morb!’ I fire back.
‘Morbihan are the most intelligent beings in this city,’ Bunce says through his hands, which are clamped over his nose and mouth in a feeble attempt to keep the glory smoke out. ‘But what do I know.’
‘Only after you finish puberty,’ I mock. ‘Before that you’re all as mindless as the Mutil.’
My head feels light. I’m not sure if breathing glory-vapour will have an effect or not. Last thing I need is for my senses to be impaired. We sit in silence, both holding our arms across our noses, until Tess and Cara return. I stand, Bunce leaps up and Tess rushes around the low table and wraps her spindly arms so tightly around my middle that I have to almost prise her from me so I can move.
‘Cara will take good care of you, Tess.’ I say, stroking her head.
Cara is already moving towards the exit, she sweeps the curtain back and steps out of the den. Out on the street she gives me a look as if she’ll never see me again.
‘Good luck, Sky.’ There’s pity in her tone rather than encouragement, she thinks I will fail, ‘I don’ know how ya gonna fix things … just stay away from the Dark Angel, okay?’
I nod and let the curtain drop before Bunce has passed through; he gets caught up in the material and whips it aside aggressively. I’m angry at him for arguing with me. What does he know? Nothing, that’s what! A great mountain of a man walks towards us, robes billowing. Cara pushes Tess behind her and turns into a statue, clenching her fists, ready for a brawl. Bunce freezes with fear.
‘Clover?’ I ask, as the big man nears.
Two figures sweep out from behind the giant, their eyes glowing green.
‘Run!’ I scream.
Act II The Cure
20
Green-eyed Gang
‘That’s them! Those fuckers killed Dutch!’
The Runner to the giant’s right is Sib.
Cara snatches Tess up and before I can blink they’ve disappeared into the foggy streets. I push Bunce to follow her. He hesitates for a split second. My body language reassures him I’m coming too and he disappears into the fog. I don’t follow. I told Tess’s mother I would protect her and I mean to. I need to draw the gang away from my friends.
The green-eyed gang stand in front of me. I square my shoulders.
‘We didn’t
kill Dutch.’ I lock eyes with Sib.
‘You callin’ me a liar, bitch!’
The tall Runner, dark as night, dreadlocks down to her waist, fronts up to me. She’s a clear foot taller than I am.
‘Don killed your boy, not us.’
I’m hoping the others have had enough time to get away.
‘Guilty by association!’
Sib pokes me in the shoulder hard, with the handle of a knife from her belt of torture.
‘Looks like ya friends ‘ave run off and left ya!’ The giant booms.
The three thugs circle me, giant to my right, Sib in front, and a short, athletic Runner to my left. The giant would seem to be the most threatening but it’s her on the left that draws my concern. There’s something inhuman about her oval face. Her long lashes are red fans above diagonal eyes, elongated by a flick of eyeliner, and her burnt orange hair with golden tips is cut in a sharp bob, the breeze fans through it and I’m reminded of sand dunes shaped by a dust storm. There’s an unusual weapon attached to her right hand; curled tight over her knuckles lies a second layer of skeleton, silver and bloodstained. I wonder how many people she’s knocked out with that fist of metal bones.
Screams cut through the fog. Cara and Tess emerge, their bodies twisting and turning, fighting to free themselves. Several pairs of neon-blue dots blink within the mist. I do a quick count: two pairs; three, four. My heart sinks into my boots. A rival gang drag my friends along like rag dolls. No sign of Bunce.
‘Lose something?’
The gruff voice belongs to a muscular body, braided beard, and piercing tattooed blue eyes. The man grins smugly, his crooked yellow teeth overlap, most are chipped and broken.
