by Emma Pullar
My stomach pinches me. Even after Bullet’s banquet, I’m still hungry. If only I could eat the clouds. Candyfloss reminds me of my mother, I have never eaten it but I’m sure it existed because I read about it in a picture book. A battered, old picture book made from a tree with pages you turn rather than swipe. My grandfather had read it to my mother as a girl and years later it was one he read again, but to me. It was about a place called a ‘fair.’ A wondrous place for families to go and be happy. I wanted more than anything to be part of the story, to eat the candyfloss, ride the rides, to play the games. I wanted to feel the excitement, breathe in the happiness, step inside the pages and be safe forever.
My grandfather and other elders would tell me it was once so, that fairs existed and that there was a time when people worked but were also free to do as they pleased. They were respected members of society like the Morbs. Apparently, Skels were once scientists, doctors, and engineers. I want to believe it, but in my heart, I know it’s a lie. Not real. All the stories told to children are made-up to bring comfort. Some even make up stories to bring comfort to adults. Skels are subservient because they think they’re going to a better place when they die. That’s not true either. You get one shot at life, and finding the cure will free me, Bunce, his race and mine. I’m sure of it, but I’m also frightened of what I must do to make it so. My nerves are all but shot, yet the magnificence of the dawn is empowering me. It’s time. The Spiral beckons.
I shift my weary bones from the bench and stretch the stiffness from my legs. I can’t walk around in the light of the day with a rifle on my back, and I’ll definitely be higher up on the ‘wanted list’ for throwing that spook off his hover-cycle. Spook. I’m even starting to think like a street rat. I hurry down the station steps and use the receding shadows as cover. The streets are deserted but they won’t be for long. My footsteps are loud against the quiet. Boots dropping onto the concrete like rocks down a dried-up well. I step lightly but cannot seem to hush my heavy soles. The marmalade-dusted slums are in my view quicker than I expect. The vector ring is still live. This time I know, because I can hear a faint hum of energy. It sounds as though the field is buckling under the pressure of being constantly in use. I check over my shoulder, pull up the grass cover and duck into the dirt tunnel.
‘Skyla! You’re not dead!’ Bunce says.
I duck out on the other side of the tunnel. Has he been sitting here waiting for me, all night?
‘Not yet,’ I say, reaching down to help him up. He takes my hand.
‘I wanted to go back for you, but Cara said Tess was our priority.’
‘She’s damn right.’
Although Bunce looks happy to see me, his face is oddly contorted.
‘Have you been waiting here the whole time?’ I ask.
‘I’m on watch,’ Bunce says proudly, like he’s been trusted with something important. He hasn’t. If a Mutil gets in, it will be his screams as it bites into him that alerts the others. He’s nothing more than cannon fodder.
‘On watch? Was there another Mutil?’
‘No, it’s Kareen, she …’ He twiddles the end of his black shirt in his thick fingers.
‘Bunce,’ I interrupt, and force my lips into a reassuring smile. ‘Tess’s mother was dying. People die young out here …’
‘It’s not that!’ he says, and locks me with a sorrowful stare. I cross my arms and wait.
‘Kareen was murdered.’
‘And?’ I shrug.
I’m sorry the woman died, I really am, but people get murdered all the time. I witnessed a murder a few hours ago. Gangs are constantly killing people and it’s somewhat normal for Eremites to kill off their dying. I can see how Bunce would be shocked, but he needs to toughen up and get over it.
‘And …’ Bunce says tight-lipped. ‘Tess is gone.’
‘What! How? Where’s Cara?’ I yell, my blood boiling. They had one job, one job! Keep Tess safe. Is that so damn hard?
‘Cara was knocked unconscious. She’s gone looking for Tess.’
‘Knocked unconscious by who?’ I growl.
‘I don’t know.’
Bunce rubs the back of his neck. His fidgeting is starting to grate on me. If he doesn’t stop twitching, there’s going to be another dead body to add to the count.
‘Where were you in all this?’ I shout.
I should lower my voice but I’m livid. How could they let this happen?
‘I was asleep,’ says Bunce, chest heaving.
‘How can you sleep through someone being murdered?’ I yell.
‘She was smothered with a pillow!’ Bunce yells back at me. ‘Cara didn’t wake up right away either. What were we meant to do, stay awake all night?’
‘If that’s what it took!’ Bunce stares at his sneakers. ‘I don’t have time for this, I have to find Tess.’
I turn back to the tunnel and Bunce grabs my arm before I can duck through the hole.
‘Cara is looking for her, she can’t have gone far. It’s imperative we … what’s that on your back?’
‘A Galva,’ I say, turning to face him. ‘Now let go of me!’
‘A Galva?’
Bunce peers around me cautiously, as if touching the rifle will cause it to go off.
‘Is that really necessary?’
I sigh. I’m going to have to take him with me this time. He can’t stay in the slums without a minder. The Eremites have tolerated both him and Cara, for Tess’s sake but with her gone, there’s no need to feed an extra mouth. I reach into my bra, the top of my breasts popping out from behind the rifle strap. Bunce drops his gaze, as Bullet did, except he quickly looks back up at my face, cheeks flushed.
‘I haven’t got time to fuck about,’ I hold out the gun. ‘Here, you take the handgun.’
He doesn’t take it from me.
‘Where shall I keep it?’
I push the gun to his chest and his body stiffens.
‘Shove it in your back pocket.’
‘It might shoot my ass off,’ he says, horrified at my suggestion.
The sun is higher in the sky, it warms my skin, we have to leave now. If we leave it any longer the streets will be teaming with guards and Skels.
‘It won’t shoot your bloody ass off!’ I yell at Bunce, ‘but I might if you don’t shut up.’
Chubby hands shaking, Bunce places the gun in the back pocket of his tie-dyed jeans.
‘Where’d you get those jeans?’
Bunce swings his backpack into my line of sight.
‘That guard friend of yours …’
‘Kian?’
‘Yes. He left my bag at Tess’s.’
I exhale, thinking. I can’t be in two places at once. If I go looking for Tess, I delay finding the serum and Central might be close to breaking Bins. Every second counts.
‘Cara will find Tess, won’t she?’ I ask Bunce.
I know he doesn’t have the answer to my question, but I need to hear some reassurance.
‘I believe she will.’ He nods.
I should have done more to protect her. I hope she wasn’t snatched. Maybe she ran off, upset. I decide that’s more likely.
‘We should focus on the bigger issue,’ Bunce says, he touches my arm tenderly. ‘There’s no way back, we have to press on.’
‘Right,’ I say, pulling nervously on the Galva strap. I hold up my hand. Bunce grabs it like we’re about to arm wrestle. His grip is firm. ‘Let’s do this.’
I duck into the tunnel, Bunce leans in close to the back of my head.
‘Today we live,’ he whispers.
‘Or die trying,’ I whisper back.
23
The Spiral
We move like spiders through the hazy city streets, clinging to walls and creeping around corners. The early risers – street sweepers and tree pruners – are too busy to notice us. Our streets aren’t immaculate like the Morbihan side of town but they aren’t as dirty as Drift Side. I wonder why the Skels on our side get up and tidy up and
the ones on Cara’s side don’t bother? The Sky Train thunders overhead, casting its snaky shadow across the pavement, and as I lead Bunce to our doom, I think about Tess’s mother. Why would anyone kill Kareen? I don’t think she was eating and if she was, it wouldn’t have been much, so food supply was not the issue. There are plenty of people who want me dead, but there’s no motive for anyone to sneak into Kareen’s shack and smother her. It doesn’t make sense.
‘How do you suppose we get past the guards?’ Bunce whispers.
‘Shut up and walk,’ I whisper back.
‘Skyla.’
‘Bunce?’
I stride on, irritated. He’s already slowing me down but I couldn’t leave him in the slums. The Eremites were using him as bait for Mutil, he’d only need to eat more than his fair share of food and they’d kill him on the spot.
‘Before we get there,’ he stutters, ‘that is, before we probably get killed … I want to say thank you.’
‘For what?’ I ask, confused. I adjust the gun strap to stop it sticking into my breasts, I pull it up across the top of my chest and hold it in place at my hip.
‘For helping me.’ Bunce says.
‘What?’ I ask. I have no idea what’s he’s going on about. I need to get things straight in my head and I can’t formulate a plan with him jabbering on.
Ouch. There’s a stone in my boot. I lean my shoulder against the warm cube wall, hiding in the overhang shadow. Bunce copies me. I tug at the laces and slip off my left boot and tap the base. A small stone falls onto the ground.
‘Bunce, let’s get something straight,’ I say, tugging my boot back on. ‘I’m helping myself, and as much as I like you …’
‘You like me?’ Bunce says, his smile almost touching his ears.
I roll my eyes. This Morb hangs on to even the smallest show of affection.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
Bunce nods. Good. I need him to think that we are. We’re not, but I don’t totally hate being around him, I hate that he slows me down but I don’t hate him. He’s starting to grow on me, I guess, like moss does on a rock.
‘So,’ I say, moving out of the shadows, ‘let’s concentrate on the task and leave the thanking until we get through this, okay?’
‘Okay,’ he says and follows me.
Once through the densely cubed area called Central Side, we hit the boundary. There’s no real boundary, it’s imaginary. Like drawing a line in the sand and pretending no one can cross. Skels never cross the boundary into the Morbihan side of town, unless they already work there. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone cross the line. Eremites, Mutil, gang members, Runners, Glo-Girls – no one crosses the line. How odd. We’re about to break that unwritten law. With our backs to a towering Morb apartment, we edge along in its shadow and past the back entrance to City Hall. We take a flight of stairs up and over a tube that crosses the boundary and which also leads to the City Hall Sky Train stop. As we march down the other side of the stairs and around a corner, the sun strikes a diamond above me. I look up, lifting my hand to my forehead to shield my eyes. The Spiral – Central headquarters, a glittering evil eye on the city. Deep breath in, blow it out. You can do this. No, I can’t. I’m walking Bunce to his death. No, don’t think like that. You can do this. I can. Anything is possible. Look how far we’ve come already. We round the corner and …
‘Shit!’
I back into Bunce.
‘What is it?’ He whispers.
His hand hovers over his right back pocket, where the gun is. He’s jumpy. I need him not to be so jumpy.
I peer back round the wall. The glass-fronted entrance doors to The Spiral are swarming with dozens of guards, like bees round a hive.
‘Is that Kian?’ I crane my neck. There are a few, tall guards with black wavy hair.
‘Couldn’t Kian let us in?’ Bunce whispers. I duck out of sight when a guard eyes the wall. I hope she didn’t see me.
I grasp Bunce’s arm and whisper to him.
‘You think the other guards will accept that? Just rock up to Kian, hey, buddy, let us in.’ I puff out an over-exaggerated sigh.
I peer around the wall again and Bunce peers with me. I touch the Galva strap. It’s a bad idea to start firing randomly at the group of guards but what choice do I have?
‘How many do you think you could take?’ I ask him out of the corner of my mouth, eyes locked on the scene.
‘None.’ Bunce replies, aghast.
‘Be serious!’ I snap.
‘I am!’
‘Look …!’
The swarm of guards disappear inside Central headquarters.
‘And then there were two,’ I say, smiling.
‘Two outside!’ Bunce says, ‘How are we going to get past those inside?’
‘One problem at a time, Bunce,’ I say, studying the building.
The Spiral is a long, silver cylinder reaching into the sky with a giant sphere on top. When I was a child, elders told stories of an extra moon that fell from the sky and became The Spiral. Many children couldn’t tell that this was a lie, I knew it was, yet part of me still wanted to believe it could happen. My eyes are drawn skyward, the top of the sphere is blocked from view by the surrounding trees and two drones buzz in to my line of sight, they whizz past in the direction of City Hall. Sometimes drones carry recording devices. I don’t think they clocked us. I reach down beside me and scoop a stick from the ground. I twirl my long, sandy hair into a bun, and shove the dry stick through the middle to hold it in place. A crow caws. In the nearest tree, a lone black bird sits fluffing its feathers. He looks at me, studying my face.
‘Glider?’ I whisper.
Glider’s head jerks towards me. He glances from left to right, stopping with every slight turn of his neck, as if his eyes are taking panoramic snapshots of the city one frame at a time.
‘Who are you talking to?’ Bunce asks.
‘Shhhh. We don’t want to spook him.’
Bunce falls silent and adjusts his backpack. Pinned to the front of his bag is a small badge, Gale City emblem on it. I snatch it from the fabric.
‘Hey! You could have ripped my backpack.’ He whines.
‘Be quiet,’ I hiss.
I wave my hands around, trying to get the bird’s attention. Shiny badge in my fingertips. His head cocks, black beady eyes on the prize. Crows frighten me, they’re unpredictable creatures. Much like Kian, I guess. It’s no wonder they worship him. The black bird’s wings spread and he floats down onto my hand, sharp claws gripping the soft flesh of my fingers. I wince at the pinching pain. I’m hoping the bird will realise I’m Kian’s friend and help me. Although possibly not, if the bird recalls that heated exchange at the pond.
‘Drop it on the guards,’ I coo, and point to the doors.
Glider tilts his head and snatches the tin badge in his beak, then lifts off. I rub my scratched hand and watch him glide back up into the tree.
‘No,’ I say, in a quiet but firm voice. ‘The guards!’
His sleek, black beak turns away and I’m faced with black tail feathers, and over the branch, the crow shits out a splatter of green and white onto the pavement below and takes off.
‘Damn crows!’
‘You didn’t really think that was going to work, did you?’ Bunce asks.
I pop my head back around the wall.
‘I was hoping … hey, look!’
Glider is perched on a ledge above the guards’ heads. I grin and wink at Bunce. Bunce shakes his head dismissively, he must think I’m crazy.
‘Get ready,’ I say, looping my fingers through the knuckle knife in my pants pocket.
Glider drops the badge and it clicks on the ground in front of the guard’s boots. They murmur to one another and glance up in time to see Glider swoop away, then one bends to pick up the badge.
I dash out from behind the wall, ducking under one of the huge support beams that slope down from the main structure, my boots scuff across tin
y bricks arranged into a picture of the Gale City emblem; a huge mosaic crow holding the sun. Before they know what’s happening, my fist is planted in the standing guard’s face, top edge of the knuckle knife smashing into his temple. He drops like that woman did when Sib shot her in the head with the Galva. The other guard grabs my ankle and yanks me off my feet. My back cracks against the hard ground. I groan and roll into the foetal position. A hand is at my neck, squeezing, his knee presses hard into my thigh, pinning me to the ground. I thrash around, blood rushing to my face. I plunge my knuckle-knife up into his fleshy side, hoping I’ve hit an organ; he grunts and falls backwards.
Sun-glinted metal flashes past my face. Bunce has pulled the guard’s sword from its sheath. Panicking, the Morb slices it through the air with all his might and practically severs the guard’s left hand, leaving it hanging off by a thread of skin. His screams are muffled by his crimson scarf, which I pull tight around the back of his head before punching him in the face, the knuckle-knife connects, crack, nose broken. His head drops backwards. Thud. Two down. Bunce drops the sword and it clatters to the ground. The Morb stands beside me, shaking and slack-jawed. I wipe my knife on the guard’s leg, smearing his blood across his tan pants, retract the blades and pocket my knuckle-knife. I like my new weapon.
‘Hide the bodies round there.’
I point to the edge of the building, next to some tall trees. Bunce nods, dazed but functioning. Arms beneath the armpits of one of the guards, he drags him away. I’m impressed with Bunce, he stepped up, though I’m more impressed with how sharp that blade is. I pick up the delicate, blood-smeared sword. I contemplate keeping it. I decide against it and throw it next to its owner, step backwards and study the front doors. No surveillance, they must think guards are enough security. Palm-pad to the right of the doors. Dammit! If only Kian was out here, Bunce’s words seem less silly. Boots scrape across the ground as Bunce hauls the other guard towards the corner of the building, bloody hand trailing red along the dusty concrete.
