What would Mantjies say? How would he look at her, if he ever found out? She pushed that thought away. He’ll never know. And what else can I do?
Escape
Nico stood at the door, listening. He’d hoped to hear the van driving off, but the sea was too loud. He was alone, for the first time since he’d been snatched away to this place. Billy had not wanted to leave him behind, but Spyker had insisted.
“We can’t take him with us on a job, Billy, and we need the money. We’ve got to go.”
In fact, he was not quite alone even now. Hitam was curled up on the sofa, but the dog-thing was fast asleep, curled up into a tight ball, the tuft of his tail covering his nose and his strange paws crossed beneath his chin.
Wait a bit more. They might come back.
Nico counted backward from a hundred. Then he went back to the cupboard in which he’d been sleeping and drew out a bundle. Just some apples and a few stale rolls, but it made him feel a little more secure. He wasn’t just running out into the night, like he’d done before. This time he’d planned ahead.
Back at the door, he closed one hand over the doorknob and placed the other flat over the keyhole. A nervous glance at Hitam reassured him that the creature was still sleeping.
Now for it. He closed his eyes and shook the door a little bit, just enough to jar it in its frame. Make those little bits of metal in the lock move, and betray themselves to him. He’d hoped to have a look at the key, but Spyker had kept it hidden.
It was easier than he’d feared. The lock he’d been practising on had been stiff, and an old, rusty thing. This lock was oiled and easy to move. He found that if he listened carefully, he could tell not just how the pieces could be moved, but how they wanted to move. Long years of sliding into the same arrangement had left its mark. All it took was listening and just the lightest mind-touch to ease things into place.
The lock made a loud click as it turned, and Nico looked to see if Hitam had heard. Still asleep. He breathed with relief and, as slowly as he could, turned the knob and opened the door. In a moment he was outside with the door closed behind him. He resisted the urge to dash away and made himself lock the door again. That way it would take them a little bit longer to realise he was gone and maybe puzzle them a bit too.
Straight, indeed. They thought he was just some little boy...
It was windy outside. The only light was from the moon, which came and went through wind blown clouds as he watched. He was on some kind of platform and a steep, craggy cliff towered above him. It was just as he remembered. The building was set into the mountainside. The platform was not very wide. He went to its edge and looked over. Parallel tracks and wooden sleepers. A railway line.
That explained the rattling, clanking, roaring sounds he’d heard every now and again. Trains rushing by. But they’d never stopped. The station must no longer be in use.
He needed to get off the platform quickly, but that was easier said than done. Both the right and left sides of the platform were blocked by large boulders and rolls of barbed wire. The only way off was onto the train line, which was frightening. Trains ran on electricity, and he was pretty sure that they got it from the lines overhead. He could hear those lines now, hissing faintly above him, but what if the rails below were also electrified?
He’d just have to be careful.
He lowered himself off the edge of the platform and dropped onto the large, chunky gravel between the rails. It smelled dirty down here and he was sure he heard the scurry of a rat. He walked with care. The gravel rolled under his feet and he wanted to stay as far as possible from the metal rails.
A new fear came upon him as he struggled forward, stepping over the wooden ends of the sleepers. What if a train came now? There was nowhere for him to run and he doubted he could lift himself up onto the platform quickly enough to get away. He strained his ears, but all he could hear was the sliding crunch of his feet on the gravel, his breathing and the thunder of the sea.
The trains don’t run at night, do they? But he didn’t know that for sure. Mouth dry, he tried to walk faster and only succeeded in tripping and coming down hard, one hand on the metal of the railway line. It was a moment before he realised that he was not, in fact, being shocked.
Ignoring the sharp pain in his shins where he’d scraped himself, he got up and struggled on.
Just got to get beyond the platform. Then I can get away from the line.
At least he didn’t have to fear the line itself anymore and it was easier to walk along it, balancing on the metal strip.
Maybe, if a train comes, I can just lie down. Surely it doesn’t pass so close to the ground? At last the platform came to an end and Nico was able to stumble down the slope and away, toward the sound of the sea. His knees buckled and he let himself slide down behind a large rock.
Rest a bit. Just to get his breath back. He wished now that he’d thought to bring some water. He resisted the temptation to eat one of the apples. Who knew how long he’d have to walk before he found somebody who could help him. But he’d done it. He was on his way back home, back to his father and Mandy, and everything that was as it should be. All he had to do was follow this railway line and it would take him to a place where he could get help.
Something touched his arm and he absently brushed it away.
Again, that light, tickling touch. He looked round. Eyes blinked at him out of the shadows. Round, yellow cat eyes, larger than any cat Nico had ever seen. The creature dropped the twig with which he’d been tickling Nico and ducked his head in sardonic greeting.
Hitam had not been asleep, after all.
-oOo-
“Hey!”
Still only half-awake, Gia found herself grabbing at something. Somebody. Somebody’s arm, by the feel of it. A figure leaned over her. “Leave off!” it hissed and wrenched itself free. Jooste.
“Get up, Grobbelaar.”
Fully awake now, Gia sat up, staring at Jooste who’d stepped back out of reach. “Your turn, cadet,” she whispered. “No getting out of it now. Get up and get dressed. Dark clothes only. And put this on.”
Gia caught the thing Jooste flung at her. Soft and black. She remembered the blindfold the Belle Gente had made her wear, but this one had eye holes. A balaclava mask.
This must be the initiation she’d been avoiding for so long. Several other cadets were out of bed too, getting ready. Soon everybody was faceless behind their masks, only their eyes visible. Gia tried to quieten her rising unease. There was a bad feeling in the air, an edge of tension that made her heart bump in her chest. She hated the thought of going out there in the night with Jooste in command.
Ontgroening. A ritual humiliation. Unpleasant at best and at worst—
“No shoes,” whispered Jooste. “They’ll leave marks on the wall. Okay, Govender?”
A bulky figure at the window nodded and gave a thumbs-up signal. Then it climbed through and lowered itself out of sight.
“You next,” said Jooste, prodding Gia.
Gia swung her legs over the sill. It was easier, this time. One foot on the ledge and she dropped onto the path below, where Govender was waiting. Gia watched as the other followed, Jooste last of all, dropping silently onto the paving. The mask hid her face, but her whole body showed her annoyance. “Get back out of the light, you idiots,” she hissed. “Right up against the wall. Move!”
Without waiting for a reply she was off, making her way along the shadowed foot of the wall. At one point she raised a hand for them to wait, peered round a corner, then dashed across an open area into the shadow of the next building.
Gia felt awake, but with a sense of unreality. She ran, wincing at the gravel under her bare feet. How had Jooste done it so quietly? And why was everyone following her so obediently? There were only two seniors, Jooste and Govender, and at least four or five cadets. Surely they did not want to participate in this?
They were all in the shadow of the building now. It was the New Block, but something was wrong
. Gia sensed it in Jooste’s tense silence.
“What’s going on?” Govender whispered, but Jooste waved her down. They could all hear it now. A murmur, like a hive of angry bees and then a voice, shouting.
“Sounds like something happening at the main gate,” said Jooste. “What the hell?”
The gate was not visible from where they were. Even in the day it would be screened from view by trees and bushes. Jooste hesitated for a moment then stole forward, keeping as much as she could in the darkest shadows among the trees.
“Shouldn’t we go back?” hissed Govender, following. “If something’s up, the guard will be out—”
But Jooste ignored her. The others followed. Soon enough they could see the gate and a long section of fence on either side. Some guards stood there, tense and watchful, their backs to the lurking cadets. There was something wrong about the view but Gia did not realise what it was until Jooste hissed, “The lights are out!”
It was true. The gates should be flooded with light. At the very least, the light should be on in the guard post at the boom, but all was dark. Or was it? Gia closed her eyes tightly then opened them again. No, it had not been a trick of the moonlight. The fence was beaded with sparks, little lights that pulsed and glowed along the wires. Soft lights, that throbbed from colour to colour. She’d seen something like it before...
“It’s a haunting,” she breathed.
Jooste stared at her. “What?”
“The fence.” She pointed, keeping her voice low. “See? It’s a haunting. It’s some kind of—” But before she could explain further, somebody shouted from beyond the gate.
“Keep back! Get back there!” More guards were coming down the road towards the gate and Gia heard the crackle of a radio. There were other people, behind the gate and along the fence, Gia could see them in the fluttering light. That humming must be coming from them. They were singing, or chanting—
Then twigs snapped in the bushes not far off. The cadets ducked and Jooste made them scramble deeper under the bushes. Somebody was coming towards them. Several people, by the sound, and they were not making any attempt to walk quietly. They seemed to be chanting something as they walked, or singing, in low, breathy voices.
“Soh—soh—” they chanted. “Sor—oh. So—row.” Tree shadows flicked over their faces. “Erra,” they said, voices blurred. “Erra. Erra.” Then they were past, three of them, a man, Gia thought and two women, moving like sleepwalkers, dragging their feet through the leaf litter.
“Guilters,” whispered Govender. “They’re guilters! But how—”
“The fence power is down,” said Jooste. “They must just be climbing over. Shit. We are so screwed.”
“But they’re just guilters,” ventured one of the cadets. Gia thought it was Van Niekerk. “They can’t do anything, can they?”
“You sure of that?” said Jooste. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter whether they’re dangerous or not. The place will be crawling with constables now. How are we going to get back without being seen?”
“We might make it if we go right now,” said Govender.
Jooste gave a nod. “Right. Our fun is cancelled for tonight. Follow me.”
-oOo-
At breakfast next morning there was more than the usual amount of chatter.
“I can’t believe I slept through it,” said Pote. “Why didn’t anyone wake us?”
“What for?” said Motsepe. “Why would they want you guys running around out there? I’m glad I missed it.” She shuddered theatrically. “I can’t stand those guilters. Cree-py. How did they get in, does anybody know?”
“The fence shut down for some reason,” said Van Niekerk. “I overheard some of the constables talking about it.”
“It was the haunting that did it,” said Vetkoek, spreading jam on his toast. “The guilters have this special power with electricity. They make the hauntings happen. I read about it. They had a whole thing in the Huisgenoot, about guilters.”
“It’s the other way round,” said Cadet Mayer, stirring her coffee rather primly. “It’s the hauntings that cause the guilters. They’re just ordinary people who were trapped in a haunting-field. It’s something the Belle Gente are doing.”
“It’s not much of a weapon, though, is it,” said van Niekerk. “I mean, it’s just a bunch of pretty lights, right? And anyway, the guilters just wandered around the grounds, chanting.”
Vetkoek laughed. “Yeah.” He rolled his eyes up and assumed a vacant expression. “Erra...erra...”
“Stop it, Vetkoek,” said Van Niekerk, slapping at the boy. “It’s not funny.”
“Ja, but you guys,” said Motsepe. “Never mind that. I want to know about this Mere Delegation deal.”
“Yes,” said Mayer. “It’s the traditional thing. They always include some Special Branch officers and some Youth Brigade cadets in the ceremonial welcoming party.”
This caused a stir of excitement all round the table. “So we’ll get to meet the mermaids?” said Vetkoek.
“Some of us will,” said Mayer. “I don’t know how they choose. Senior cadets only, probably.”
“I’d like to see her,” said Krynauw. Everybody looked at him in surprise. He was a large boy and usually kept silent. Now he was staring dreamily into the mid distance. “I’d like to see that Selkie queen. I hear she’s got as many tits as a dog-bitch.”
“Krynauw! That’s disgusting!” said Mayer, but everyone else laughed uproariously. “A dog-bitch!” giggled Vetkoek. “Isn’t she a human, though? The Selkie queen? I heard that she’s a human—”
“No,” said Mayer. “You’re thinking of the Mere. There’s the two of them. The queen’s a selkie. A kind of seal person. But the Mere is a human who’s given themselves to the sea.”
“Yes, I heard that too,” said Motsepe. “And they live for like, a really long time, but have you seen the pictures?” She wrinkled her face in distaste. “You can’t even see if it’s a man or a woman anymore. They become all covered with barnacles and stuff. And they can’t live above water or anything.”
“So do we get the day off, today?” asked Vetkoek.
The others looked at him and he gestured with his toast. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” he said, mouth full. “Don’t we get the day off?”
“It’s Monday, Vetkoek,” said Mayer, through the others’ laughter.
“You sure? We don’t get time off at all?”
“No such thing, around here,” said Motsepe. “Watch out, here’s Naudé.”
“Good morning, cadets!”
There was a scrape of chairs as everyone got to their feet.
“Sit, down, sit down,” said Warrant Officer Naudé. He waited until they’d all resumed their seats.
“We’ve got a change to the routine this morning. As you may have heard, we like to send new recruits on patrol, so that they can have a full experience of everything we do here at Special Branch. Starting today.”
There was a stir of interest among the recruits.
“I want to emphasise that this patrol experience is a privilege and not a right and that we depend on the goodwill of the constables. Cadets must remember that they are there to watch and learn, and must not do anything that will interfere with the constables’ ability to perform their duties. That means: stay out of their way, obey all orders unquestioningly and instantly. Do I make myself clear?”
There was a general chorus of “Yes, sir!”
“Very well. These are the cadets that will be going on their patrols this morning. Cadets Kraynauw, Isaacs and Mostert. They are all to report at the wolf cages at half past ten this morning.”
He gave the silver salute and left, ignoring the hum of excited conversation he left in his wake.
Gia swallowed her last spoonful of porridge and took her dishes to the kitchen hatch, counting off days in her mind. Mayer was right, it was Monday. She’d completely lost track. She felt smothered, as though something was constricting her chest and she could not take a dee
p enough breath. How long was she going to be in this place? If she lost track of time so easily, could she also lose track of her purpose? Get sucked into the daily routine until she’d forgotten what was important to her, Gia? The real Gia—not this girl in her grey uniform who followed orders and just watched what happened around her.
The previous evening she’d gone to do her extra session in data capture. It had not been a complete waste of time, she supposed. She’d caught up with her quota of official work and had also managed to fit in some of her unofficial data sneaking, finding the lists of names and codes for the Belle Gente and sending them off. But although she’d done yet another search, in yet another of the accounts she had access to, she’d found nothing about Nico. And she was beginning to feel she was wasting her time, going down blind alleys. The database might hold the key to Nico’s whereabouts, but would she recognise it even if she found it?
It was time to stop messing around and act.
Today was the day. Time to get a look behind that metal door in the doctor’s workroom.
-oOo-
“Do that again.”
Nico picked up the coins and tossed them into air. Then he caught them with his mind, allowing each coin to retain just enough momentum to continue its spin, but stay floating. It wasn’t hard to do, really, now that he’d found the right way to think about it. It wasn’t a matter of force. That was what had slowed him down at first. He’d thought he had to control everything. All you had to do was use what the thing wanted to do and just give it a nudge.
“Dude, that is so cool,” said Billy. “When did you learn to do that?”
Still watching the coins, Nico shrugged and pulled the corners of his mouth down in the way he’d often seen his father do. No big deal. He let the coins settle on the table, each one landing with a clink. Then he turned them over, one at a time, aware of Hitam’s amused scrutiny.
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