Skeletal

by Emma Pullar

  ‘Sometimes they scream that they haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Where are they taking her?’ I ask.

  ‘One of three,’ Dove says, eyes downcast.

  ‘What’s that?’ I say, but I think I know. I exchange dark looks with Andia.

  ‘Mutilation, murder, meat,’ Andia replies for Dove.

  Dove nods.

  ‘Does this happen often?’ I ask.

  Dove scrubs harder, taking his anguish at the girl’s removal out on the bench.

  ‘Once is too often.’ he replies.

  35

  Rogue Guard

  A lone light shines small in the huge scrub hall. My light. Everyone is asleep. Around me, several scrubs snore and snort; mattresses creak with restless tossing and turning, and the occasional dull cough echoes from someone in a far bunk block. I’ve been here four days and already I feel like a zombie. Tired and drained, my back hurts, my feet throb, and my spirit is breaking. I lie, quiet as a mouse, staring at my shrivelled hands. The gloves don’t help much. Chemicals still manage to seep through and blister my skin. I pick at my flaking fingers; my eyes are heavy but I don’t close them. No windows, no clocks, but I know it’s midnight. Midnight calls to me, a tiny reminder inside my head whispering, you should be asleep.

  ‘You should be asleep,’ says a familiar voice.

  I lean over the edge of my bunk to see Crow standing at the bottom of the ladder, his face dipped in darkness, the outline of his wavy hair level with that of a sleeping Andia.

  ‘What took you so long?’ I say, climbing down.

  ‘Sorry, I’m not meant to be on prison duty tonight. I had trouble persuading Fingers to swap with me. He couldn’t work out why I would want to take a Vault shift. We all hate it here.’

  I’m glad that bastard hates it in here. It increases my chances of not running into him again.

  ‘At least you don’t live here,’ I say, tugging at my sleep shirt, a cue for him to look at the awful rag and pity me.

  ‘You don’t live here, either,’ he says.

  I point to my wrist.

  ‘Argue with that.’

  We sit down on the bottom bunk. It sinks and I’m dragged into the centre of the bed. I hold on to the rim of the mattress with both hands. Crow sits close to me, our thighs touching. I find myself wanting to be close to him, wanting to feel his arms around me again. If only I could turn back time, go back to how safe he made me feel at the edge of the pond. It wasn’t a great life but I wasn’t a prisoner. I wish my choices were different. I wish I’d taken the easy road and agreed to be a host. The tears fall fast. So fast, I don’t realise I’m sobbing.

  ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you?’

  I sniff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.

  ‘I just … I can’t stay here.’

  ‘And you won’t,’ Crow says, almost sweetly, almost Kian. He wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb, ‘I freed you once, remember?’

  I want to believe that he can get me out of here, but I know he didn’t do it last time. Clover did.

  ‘You’re not under Clover’s orders anymore, are you?’ I ask.

  ‘How do you know I was taking orders from Clover?’

  I look away.

  ‘He told me he had been controlling my life so that I would lead him to the serum.’

  ‘I did it to keep you safe.’

  ‘I know,’ I coo, touching Crow’s hand. ‘And I’d have done the same for you, but this time you can’t help me.’

  ‘I can’t, no,’ he says, taking my hands in his.

  ‘No one can,’ I tug my hand from him, stand and place my foot on the ladder. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.’

  Crow grabs me by the waist and pulls me to him. I get a surge of unexpected excitement.

  ‘I do mind,’ he says, his grip is firm. He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. ‘I’d rather you were in my bed.’

  ‘One-track mind, much?’ I raise my eyebrows.

  He winks.

  Whatever transformation Crow has gone through he hasn’t changed his feelings about me. I don’t know whether to slap his face for that remark or answer with ‘let’s go!’ Bunce climbs into my consciousness, guilt into my stomach.

  ‘You don’t make things easy for yourself, do you?’ I laugh. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of girls not locked up in prison who would love an invitation to your bed.’

  ‘Since when was anything easy worth doing … or having?’ he raising one eyebrow.

  ‘I’m not a fucking possession, Crow!’

  ‘I never said you were. And anyway, why would I want to possess something that causes me so much grief?’

  He laughs, and turns to walk away.

  ‘Wait!’ I hiss under my breath, not wanting to wake the others.

  Crow stops but doesn’t turn around.

  ‘Are you going to help me get out of here or not?’

  ‘I can’t help you but I know someone who can,’ he turns his head so I can hear him clearly but doesn’t look back, ‘find two others willing to come with you and meet me in the morning by the main entrance.’

  ‘Two others?’ I ask. ‘Like who?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Crow says, his boots echoing against the concrete floor as he strides away. ‘Just make sure they’re trustworthy.’

  I climb back up to my bunk and shut off the light. Pitch black. I close my eyes and then open them again, same darkness. Nothing to see. I wish I could turn the light off inside my head. Who will I take? Andia, of course. I only know her and one other person, Dove. No one else has spoken to me. Not one word from anyone, just stares, hating me for not having suffered in here as long as they have. But can Dove be trusted? Will he come with us?

  Epilogue

  I don’t remember falling asleep. My eyes are slits. I feel like I’ve only just closed them. The room is sweat-stained. Mouldy, even. I’m amazed the scrubs don’t get sick and die with no fresh air. They should be dropping like flies off the vector ring. There are a few vents in the ceiling but not nearly enough. What I wouldn’t give for an open window, to feel the breeze on my face. Andia is already showered and dressed. I grab my comb and clothes and slide down the ladder, throwing them and my night-shirt on the bottom bunk. I’m not quite last in line. Once dressed, necklace secured around my neck, we stand in rows the same as we did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, arms linked ready for ‘Affirmation’. The same dull words drone from the scrubs’ mouths. I mutter along eyes on Andia who is two rows ahead of me, Dove is at the front. The sea of slaves starts to move. I wriggle my way through the hunched-over bodies.

  ‘Andia!’

  She stops.

  ‘Sky, I don’t think I’m working with you today …’

  ‘Shhh, listen. We’re not going with the others, come with me.’ I tug on her arm. She resists.

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘We’re getting out of here.’

  I pull her through the tightly-packed bodies, shuffling to the front of the room.

  ‘We can’t.’ she says.

  ‘Yes, we can. I have help.’

  ‘They’ll kill us.’ She lowers her voice, glancing around at the other scrubs but they’re not interested, it’s like they’re drugged or something, ‘No second chances for scrubs. You saw how they took that girl away on the first day.’

  I stop shuffling forwards.

  ‘I don’t have time to argue. Stay here, then.’

  Andia winds one of her tight plaits around the tip of her finger.

  ‘I’ll come,’ she nods.

  ‘We need Dove too,’ I say quickly.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘There needs to be three of us, I don’t know why.’

  ‘He might turn us in.’

  ‘We have to take that risk.’

  Andia falls on the floor, writhing.

  ‘Oh no, I think I twisted my ankle!’ she shouts, unconvincingly.

  I stare down at her, amuse
d.

  ‘You’re a shitty actor.’

  ‘Shut up … oh, ouch, I can’t get up.’

  I roll my eyes and try not to laugh. Her trick works. Dove is soon crouched down beside her. The rest of the scrubs steer their scrawny bodies around us like robots fitted with obstacle detectors, no need to look up, their bodies will automatically avoid a collision. Dove gently lifts Andia’s ankle to examine it.

  ‘Did you fall?’

  ‘No,’ she whispers. ‘Sky has a plan to escape.’

  Dove drops Andia’s foot and she winces at the painful and unexpected impact of her ankle bone with the floor. Dove stares up at me.

  ‘Will you come?’ I ask, hoping upon hope he won’t turn us in.

  Dove seems to consider the invitation, pink eyes searching the floor for an answer. After a few seconds, he looks back up at me.

  ‘Only two things in life are certain, death, and change. I have not experienced change and death will soon come for us all … I will go with you,’ he says.

  ‘We have to leave now,’ I say to him.

  He nods and helps Andia to her feet. She flicks her braided hair over her shoulder.

  ‘Where?’ Dove asks, quietly.

  ‘Main entrance.’

  Dove lifts his white eyebrows at Andia.

  ‘Keep up the pretence. If you were really injured, the ID office is where you’d be taken. They won’t suspect anything untoward. Skyla, get under her other arm.’

  I do as Dove says and we help Andia to the crawlspace. Once on the other side we keep up the act. My heart races as we turn down the passage towards freedom. A figure waits for us in the middle of the corridor. Crow stands tall in his uniform; handsome and confident as always. I expect Andia to show an interest in him but she doesn’t even give him a second glance. Crow opens the door to the room where we received our tattoos. We file inside and he follows, shutting the door behind him.

  ‘No cameras in here, so we’re safe. Your uniforms.’ he says.

  He hands me and Andia a guard uniform each. When he gets to Dove, he stops.

  ‘Dove?’ he says to me.

  ‘Yeah, so?’ I say. ‘You said three people.’

  ‘How am I supposed to hide his skin? He’ll give us away the moment we get outside the door!’

  Dove opens a drawer and pulls out some black latex gloves.

  ‘Guards don’t go around wearing latex gloves, and what about your face!?’ Crow growls.

  Dove smiles.

  ‘Once I complained about a hole in my shoe, and then I met a man with no feet.’

  ‘This is crazy!’ Crow throws his hands up. ‘You couldn’t find someone normal?’

  I shrug and pull my belt tighter. The uniform is a little big.

  ‘What is normal?’ Dove says, smiling. ‘Normal is as normal acts, my friend. If it is normal to murder and mutilate innocent people when following orders, then no, I’m not normal, but you are.’

  ‘I’m not your friend, freak,’ Crow grunts. ‘For someone who has a reputation for being mute, you’re extremely chatty, and I’ve heard you’re a dirty snitch.’

  ‘I only talk to people worth my words and I can only snitch on a person who is in the wrong. I can’t snitch on people who do the right thing, don’t you think?’

  Crow scowls, thrusts a uniform at Dove and turns to help Andia adjust her helmet. I help Dove wrap the red scarf around his face before placing the beaked helmet on his head.

  ‘What now?’ I ask Crow, though it’s clear what his plan is.

  ‘A friend of mine risked her neck to set this up. The job is a consignment of parts from factory to Morbihan residential.’

  ‘You know what?’ Andia says. ‘I would probably understand that better if you said it in Japanese, and I don’t speak Japanese.’

  Crow sighs.

  ‘Jumpsuits in that cupboard.’ He points to a dark corner of the room. Dove collects up the discarded scrub uniforms and takes them to the cupboard. Crow settles his gaze on Andia, ‘We’re taking an important package from one place to another. Got it?’

  ‘Got it!’ she nods, and gives Crow a shaky two thumbs up. She’s jittery, this is way out of her comfort zone.

  ‘Once outside, move as I move …’ Crow barks instructions, ‘do as I do, and don’t speak until the package has been delivered and we’re safely out of sight.’

  ‘Won’t someone be suspicious that it wasn’t sent using drones?’ I ask. Crow’s jaw clenches and a vein pops up in his neck. ‘I mean, what’s in the package that it needs a four-guard service?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Crow shakes his head, irritated. ‘It’s not my business to know. I trust my friend’s judgement, and anyway, there wasn’t much time to hash things out. I could hazard a guess that since it’s going to Master Vable, it must be important engineering parts.’

  The fine hairs on the backs of my arms prickle. Back to the Vables. To Bunce.

  Getting outside was surprisingly easy. Crow pressed his palm to the pad. The doors opened and we walked out. I don’t know why I thought the front doors would be bolted with extra locks and chains or something. What wasn’t so easy was the way Dove reacted to the light. Early in the morning, with the sun only just peeking above the buildings should have been the best time for him to experience the outside, but even that is too much. Dove struggles to keep up, blinded by the light, overwhelmed by the sounds and sights, his pink eyes dart around, trying to take everything in. He gasps and shakes. I lift my head and take in huge gulps of fresh air as we march across the bridge. Freedom tastes good.

  A crow flaps past Dove’s head and he ducks in fear. I march close to him and gently touch his arm. His body relaxes. The bird settles on Crow’s shoulder and turns its feathered head to stare at me through suspicious, beady eyes. I’m sure it’s Crow’s pet, Glider, and I can tell the bird hates me. My grandfather once told me crows recognise individual human faces and can hold a grudge if you treat them badly. I don’t know if I have ever treated a crow badly. Maybe it thinks I treat Crow badly and sees me as a threat?

  We march down an alley and wait outside a factory door. Crow goes in and is soon back with a long, rectangular box that looks as if it might be filled with broom handles. ‘FRAGILE’ is written on the side in black, capital letters. The bird that hitched a ride on Crow’s shoulder sits perched in a nearby tree, eyeballing me. We take our places one behind the other, hoist the long box up onto our shoulders and march across town. I wonder why we don’t take the Sky Train. My guess is that whatever is in the box might interfere with the train’s controls. We finally reach the entrance to Bunce’s apartment block. Crow presses his palm to the pad; the door opens and we follow him into the holding chamber. The same smarmy man who gave me access when I was a host greets us. I’m overcome with a strange feeling. Not nostalgia; a familiar foreboding mixed with anxiety and regret.

  ‘One guard only from this point,’ the repulsive man says.

  ‘I was told four guards were needed,’ Crow says.

  ‘Only one from this point,’ the man repeats.

  Crow nods at me.

  ‘We’ll go to the Barracks,’ he says. ‘You see the package safely to Master Vable.’

  I nod, and glance at the others who look petrified at the thought of leaving without me or, more to the point, leaving with Crow.

  As my friends march through one door, I prop the package up against the wall and scrub with the burning chemical. Then I enter the door opposite, grasping the package with both throbbing hands. It isn’t heavy, just awkward because of its length. I hold it tight against my shoulder like a solider carrying a shotgun. The last thing I want to do is drop it. Inside the complex, the cool air wraps around me and dries the sweat running down my temples. Apprehension creeps up on me as I walk the same stretch of corridor I did the first time I met the Vables. Not as unsteady on my feet as last time, my boots easier to walk in than those stupid heels.

  Halfway down the corridor, the realisation hits me. Bunce. I can get him
out of here. Is that why Crow insisted I go on, to free Bunce? That doesn’t make sense. He hates Bunce. I guess it’s because I’m the only one who can go on. Crow needs to help the others find somewhere safe to stay. As a fugitive, I can’t do that, and I’m also the only person who knows which apartment belongs to the Vables. This one. Number twelve. I knock. They must be expecting me. Although not me personally, that’s the last thing the Vables would expect. The hum of a hover-chair glides towards the door. I keep my head down, beak covering my face.

  ‘Ah thank you, my good …’

  My eyes meet Master Vable’s shutters.

  ‘Ms Skyla?’

  I nod and place the package inside the doorframe.

  ‘They’ve got him locked up in the attic space,’ he blurts out, sharp intake of breath. ‘He’s allowed out to attend the education facility and to undergo tests, but after that he is locked away again.’ Another forced breath.

  ‘It’s okay.’ I say, in a soothing voice.

  ‘No, it’s not. Nothing is. This wasn’t what was meant to happen.’ He sniffs. ‘They’re making him ill, Ms Skyla, the tests are abrasive, he can’t take it.’ My former master coughs and splutters. ‘All our hard work for nothing. Bins, Hatti, Lyca. I’ve failed them all, but most of all, I’ve failed you and Bunce.’

  ‘Hatti?’ I say, a vision of the eccentric top-hatted Morb floats into my head. Now I’m confused. ‘I saw him on the vision screen saying the serum was destroyed.’

  ‘Yes, he’s good at propaganda, is Hatti.’

  ‘Are you saying you know about the cure?’ I frown.

  ‘Of course I do,’ his mechanical eyes blink, ‘I set Cara up as the decoy. Oh, that poor girl but sacrifices had to be made.’

  ‘Who intercepted the drone?’ I ask, somewhat taken aback.

  ‘Flair, a lovely High-Host. Works for Lyca. She snuck into an office inside The Spiral,’ he speaks quickly, taking sharp breaths between every fifth word, ‘made a hole in the wall behind the painting, placed the cure inside and covered it over with putty, it was the one place we knew they’d never suspect.’