by Emma Pullar
Once I’m fully awake, Tess stalks my mind. I touch my neck and shoulder, where she bit me. I can’t picture her as she was before the mutilation; actually, I can hardly picture her at all. She presents as a disfigured shadow, a girl with no face. She’s a phantasm plaguing my thoughts. I expected nightmares of Tess, but last night she did not enter my dreams. I slept soundly. I haven’t slept as deeply since before Selection and I’ve never dreamed in such vivid colour as I did last night, not since I was a small child. Kian was the centre of this dream. Before he became someone else, back when he was my trusted friend. Although friend doesn’t do our relationship justice, we have always been more than friends, more like family. Will he still want to be my friend, now his fears have come true? I don’t think he’ll ever speak to me again if he finds out about me and Bunce. Everything is so messed up.
I dreamed of Kian as he once was, before he became a guard, before he became Crow. He made me feel safe. I wish he was with me. Do I wish for his company instead of Bunce’s? If there is one thing Bunce doesn’t do which Kian does, it is make me feel safe. Even as cold and harsh as he can be, Kian equals safety, whereas Bunce equals uncertainty and probably death. I think of my life before Showcase. Things used to be simple. I wish I was back in the past, on one of my recoup days, enjoying the freedom. All Skels are permitted one day of leisure. A day to rest before another working week. Tired workers are not productive. Kian and I had the same recoup day and we would always spend it in each other’s company, either at the pond or climbing trees or wandering around Market Square. It didn’t matter what we did, as long as we were together.
Central provides Skels with rations, a horrible gruel for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so many people grow vegetables and trade them. Skels also make things to trade at the market for other useful things. Neither Kian nor I had much of anything to trade. Both of us were without parents, which meant we were poorer than most, Kian more so than me with three younger brothers to care for. The boys would entertain themselves during the day, but would always turn to Kian for nourishment and Kian would always turn to the market.
Last night’s dream was of our second meeting. Unlike other young Skels, who liked to browse in groups, I’d always go to market alone; that is, before Kian.
Thanks to my dream, the day I bumped into Kian at the market is as fresh in my mind, as if I’d lived it yesterday. The warm air was pulsing with spices and smoked meat but what came through thickest was the smell of rain, that damp smell that smothers everything even before the first drop has hit the ground. I love that smell. It was the start of monsoon season and even though charcoal clouds threatened overhead, Skels remained determined to get in one last day of trading before the relentless downpours lashed the city.
I remember walking past many stalls that day, perusing the wares, weaving in and out of people busily swapping and bartering. There were so many things to trade for; pots, bowls, spoons, lucky rocks painted to represent different symbols of the Glory in the Sky; all making promises to hold off the Dark Angel, promises I know a rock (painted or not) cannot keep. There were fruit and vegetable stalls and sometimes bread. I always gave a wide berth to the meat stalls. Plucked birds and skinned snakes hung up under the canopy, swaying when gusts of wind rushed through. Clear bags filled with liquid were dotted around to keep the flies away. Anything flies were most interested in never interested me. Skels don’t eat meat but Eremites do and they often exchange rare and lavish items for it. Once I tried to catch a snake with thoughts of selling it. I lunged, it slithered away fast and I was left with my face in the dirt. I never tried to catch animals again.
Instead, I tried to trade my hair fasteners – which were nothing more than forked sticks with the bark stripped away. No one ever wanted them, except Ms Grouse. Sometimes she took pity on me and traded a small pumpkin for three sticks and an apple, which I’d stolen at great risk. It was easier to climb a tree and risk getting caught, than waste a whole recoup day chasing snakes. I remember running my fingers along Ms Grouse’s table of wares, I stopped to pick up a small smooth fruit. My mind unlocks a conversation with Kian.
‘You gonna trade for that?’
I snatch my fingers from the edge of the wooden table and drop the fruit. Kian smiles at me; soft boyish face, small frame, athletic arms folded across his puffed-out chest.
‘Yeah,’ I say, smiling back, nose in the air.
‘With what?’ he laughs. ‘Those sticks?’
I glance down at the fasteners gripped tightly in my hand. He won’t want these and I haven’t any apples. What’s he doing watching Ms Grouse’s stall? Why would he help that old woman? He told me his parents were dead and Skels don’t take other people’s children in. ‘Charity begins at home, look after your own’ is the chant of our people.
‘Helping Ms Grouse, huh?’ I say, accusingly.
‘Yeah, she’s sick. I get a few melontines out of it, though,’ he shrugs.
A couple of melontines isn’t worth losing a whole recoup day. Hybrid fruits are disgusting anyway, the melon/clementine mix being one of the worst in my opinion. I swipe the yellow fruit from Kian’s fingers and the piled-up figs on the wobbly wooden table roll towards me. A few drop to the ground. I quickly shove my collection of sticks onto the table, making a barrier to stop more fruit from falling.
‘How many sticks will it be, then?’ I ask, smugly.
Kian raises his thick eyebrows and nods to the figs on the floor. I waste no time in scooping them up, using the bottom of my snood as a makeshift bag. I hold the frayed material tight so the figs can’t escape. Without warning, water drops in great sheets from the heavens and I scream when the cold rain runs down my back. I duck under the stall with Kian, who hugs me to his side. We watch as other stallholders struggle to hold on to their wares, and cloth roofs blow inside out with the howling wind. Ms Grouse’s stall is sturdy and many market-goers stumble towards us, heads down. They shout to Kian over the squalling wind. Kian nods for them to take shelter with us.
From that day on, we spent nearly every recoup day together. Being with Kian made my life worth living. I lived for the end of my working week but it was never enough. I always wanted more. More freedom. Less fear. More safety. Less fights. More rights. More justice. It never came and now it looks as though it never will.
A breezes rushes through the trees and spots of golden sunlight sparkle through the leaves. I think about waking Bunce. I should have taken him home, I could have dropped him off outside the door to the complex but he insisted on coming to the wall with me, as did Cara.
I sit for a moment, twirling the info-card Cara gave me between my fingers. She got it from Crow. I may as well start calling him that now he has officially accepted this name. Crow gave the card to Cara when she ran into him while looking for Tess. He didn’t ask about me, didn’t even care to ask if I was alive or dead. All he said was my name and handed Cara the card. No explanation. I shove the plastic into my pocket.
I’m emotionally drained and I know Bunce is exhausted but we must keep going. We managed to escape capture in the park, the guards must have been tipped off about the two Mutil bodies piled on the hill, but we’re exposed out here by the wall. Guards don’t patrol the edge of the wall but there’s a station every few hundred metres. Clover will hunt me until I’m safely locked away in Rock Vault and can cause no more trouble, or perhaps he will let nature take its course and I will eventually cause my own demise. Maybe the siren and the patrols aren’t actually for us, perhaps we aren’t a priority now the serum is gone?
We don’t eat breakfast because we have no breakfast. Before we left Tinny’s hideout I managed to pick up the flask of water, which Cara carries, and I also grabbed the gun but that’s all.
‘What kind of creature does Crow want you to catch, then?’ Cara stands over me, her shadow stealing my warm sunlight.
‘Why are you still here, Cara?’ I ask. Not bothering to mask the irritation in my voice. What the hell is she blabbering on about, ca
tching a creature for Crow?
Cara stares at me blankly and then as if the thought had suddenly occurred to her, she takes out a small rectangular object from her pocket.
‘I got nowhere else to go, and I should give you this,’ she says, reaching into her pocket. ‘Crow gave this to me, too. I was gonna keep it and use it as a bargaining chip, since you obviously hate me after what ’appened with Tess but I want you to trust me. Here.’
She hands me a metal square and I look at her wrist, remembering the one embedded there. It’s still there but cracked, she must have tried to remove it. I tap the screen and six words appear: A few scales should be enough.
‘I don’t get it?’ I whisper to myself.
‘Well, info-cards are locked, only guards and Central have access to the technology that opens them and tiny touchpads are not locked. Anyone can read them or watch holo-news on them, I’m guessing the note is cryptic-like and the info-card has some secret on it.’
‘I get that, Cara.’ I say, but why give these things to me?
‘If the creature ‘as scales, I’d say it’s a snake,’ she says, ignoring my question. ‘Let’s grab one and get going.’
Cara has obviously read the note and come to her own conclusion.
I stand and stretch the stiffness from my legs. If we were set upon by guards, I would not be able to run, my muscles are heavy as rock. Bunce is on his feet, staggering close to the wall. I sprint to catch up, forcing my muscles to unlock. My thoughts race along with my steps. I don’t know who I am anymore, what am I fighting for? It used to be I’d fight for myself. I would help others, as long as there was something in it for me. Even when helping Tess I had an angle; access to the slums, the pond, and a hiding place from guards and Mutil. The fight for life – that was always for my life. I’d never fight for Crow like I’ve fought for Bunce. Why? Maybe Bunce needs me and Crow doesn’t? Urgh. Fuck Bunce. I kick the orange sand. That’s right. I did fuck Bunce. I let that happen. I took his virginity and I can never give it back. I snatched it greedily, because I needed a thrill, I did this knowing he cared more for me than I for him. Right now, all I want to do is run away, look after myself and no one else but if I leave him to be captured, he’ll probably be tortured and mutilated. Why do I care what happens to him? I just want to go, disappear forever.
I recoil at my thoughts, my head is trying to eject my demented mind. Seven words use my brain as a trampoline. Why does anyone even bother with me? I don’t have an answer. Maybe the answer is right in front of me? Bunce is ten feet away and on his knees, holding his head.
‘Bunce?’ I yell to him.
He doesn’t move. Sand creeps into the city from under the wall. It lies beneath Bunce’s knees, turning his blue jeans orange. I crouch beside him and lift his head; droplets of his sweat run between my fingers. His hair is saturated.
‘Bunce, what’s wrong? Talk to me.’
His face is pale. It’s always pale but now he has the look of shiny porcelain.
‘I think I’m sick,’ he rasps.
‘No shit!’ Cara says, she holds out the flask.
I take it and I press the water to Bunce’s lips. He sips and struggles to swallow.
‘Can you stand?’ I ask.
Bunce shakes as he tries to pull his heavy frame up on to his feet. He leans against me, my legs buckle, I lift his arm up over my shoulder and Cara does the same on his other side. We walk slowly, the sun blazing down. It beats us, hot fists pounding my back. Is it too hot out here for the Morb? Maybe he’s going through the change. What if he blobs out right now. Cara and I couldn’t carry a full sized Morb. I glance sideways at the young guy slumped around my shoulders, feet dragging through the dust. His frame seems slighter, lighter. I stop abruptly. Bunce groans.
‘We have to get you home.’
‘No,’ Bunce croaks at me.
‘Yes. There’s something wrong with you, what’s the use of finding the ingredient if you die out here?’
‘No. I’m staying with you. I … I want to stay with you.’ his eyes plead.
Cara helps me prop him up against the wall. She walks ahead a few feet, kicking up dust over her worn slip-on shoes, all the while staring up at the wall, probably wondering if it can be scaled without climbing equipment.
‘Whoa!’ Cara suddenly yells, ‘look at the size of this!’
She holds up a sheet of shredded snakeskin. It’s as long as she is tall and wider than her. She throws it to the ground like it’s diseased and carries on looking for a weakness in the wall.
I turn my attention back to Bunce, he reaches for me, hands shaking. I crouch and take his hands in mine.
‘I know you don’t love me,’ he whispers.
‘I …’
‘Don’t say it,’ he rasps. ‘Don’t say it just because you think I’m dying.’
‘I won’t say it,’ I assure him. ‘I don’t know what that kind of love looks like.’
I was quick to judge Kian for not knowing how to love, thinking I did because I loved my grandfather and he loved me but that’s a different kind of love and I have never been in love.
‘It doesn’t look like anything …’ Bunce smiles at me like I’ve said something daft. ‘You feel it.’
‘I do feel something,’ I say, and I do. ‘I care about you.’
‘But you don’t love me, even now, even after we …’
Bunce’s eyelids droop. I shake him.
‘Bunce.’
He opens his eyes.
‘I’m fine… just tired.’
‘Listen, I don’t know how to feel about anything,’ I say, propping myself up against the wall beside him. ‘Now that Tess is dead, Clover is a traitor, and Kian isn’t Kian, I feel like my heart can’t take any more punishment. I care what happens to you. You’re all I’ve got left. I don’t want to lose you.’
Bunce stares at me in shock. I stare back as shocked as he is, did I just say those words? Did I mean them? I did. As much as I want to run away from everyone, be alone, and only have them in my life when it suits me, I don’t want to be utterly alone. I don’t want to be without him in my life.
‘He needs to see a Verity.’
Cara throws the words at the wall but they are meant for me.
‘What’s a Verity?’ I shout over to her.
‘A healing mistress, you know, a Morb who can see truth,’ she says, walking towards us.
‘How’s that going to help?’ I ask, confused.
‘A Verity can see truth in your mind but also within your body,’ rasps Bunce, his eyelids flicker. I hope he doesn’t pass out.
‘They can sense what ails you,’ Cara adds.
‘Yes, Cara,’ Bunce pleads with his eyes. ‘Take me to Lyca.’
‘Take you to Lyca?’ Cara spits. ‘Do I look like my brain’s been mutilated?’
‘She won’t turn us in,’ Bunce wheezes.
‘She’s a Morb, ‘course she’ll turn us in.’ Cara rolls her eyes.
‘No, Morbs don’t betray each other.’
‘We ain’t Morbs, Bunce,’ she reminds him.
‘To betray you is a betrayal of me,’ he says. ‘I promise you, she won’t turn you in.’
Cara shrugs at me. She doesn’t know if that’s true and neither do I, but there’s no choice. I nod, we peel Bunce from the wall and heave his body up over our shoulders. With our aid, he’s able to walk – just.
‘Where do we find this Verity?’ I ask Cara, talking across Bunce.
‘You’re not going to like it,’ she replies.
‘Where?’ I insist.
‘The Barracks,’ she says, and she’s right I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.
It takes us twenty minutes longer to reach the guard station than it would have if Bunce could walk unaided. We sneak around the back of the Barracks. Cara says the Verity works out of an underground healing shop on the other side of the towering stone pillars. The home to guards is a great fortress, grey stones the same as historic castles used to lo
ok before they were all destroyed or swallowed by the sea, and inside these walls there’ll be training grounds and dorms and an armoury filled with weapons. Above us, the Sky Train hammers over the manned turrets. Being this close to the Barracks causes nausea to pull at my stomach. Cara helps me half-carry Bunce around the back of the stone enclosure. Behind the brickwork, higher ranked guards yell, while lower ranks march and scramble and run. The sounds create a vision in my head and I wish I could see in, find out how accurate the picture is that my mind has conjured.
After a few minutes, I stop and prop Bunce up against the wall. He doesn’t weigh any more yet he’s getting heavier with every step and sweat pours down his temples. I catch my breath but it’s stolen again by a horrible bone-shaking noise, a low growl, followed by a gruesome bark, like a wild animal is throwing up the bones of someone it ate last night. My skin prickles like bird feathers stroked the wrong way. Cara holds her midriff, she pants and puffs, trying to speed up her body’s recovery from carrying Bunce. There’s a crack in the wall. I lean in and peer through it. A person thrashes about on the ground, limbs flailing, he hollers while two huge beasts attack him. Guards laugh and the man on the floor shouts, ‘Enough! Call them off!’ A whistle sounds and the beasts release the guard on the floor and sit to attention. The guard gets to his feet with the help of another then pats the dust from his protective suit.
The awful creatures that attacked the guard in a padded suit are called dogs but they’re more like wolves; they’ve been enhanced in every way possible. Bigger, stronger, and part bionic. I like them less than the Mutil. These evil creatures have a keen sense of smell, they’re fast and have been known to outrun hover-cycles. Their teeth are metal daggers and they can see just as well in the dark, as in the day. They aren’t used regularly because Skels fear them, we call them Ruinous because they can ruin a person in minutes. We don’t see these creatures often because Central can’t have their workers walking around in fear, it’s unproductive.
