by Erme Lander
The edge of the stairwell, I heave myself over into the circle of light and nearly freeze at the world shaking around us. I can’t hear anything. Talia mouths something, grabs my arm and pulls me sideways. Adrenaline spurs me on, helping me to dodge obstacles and balance across broken beams. For once my feet are as nimble as Talia’s and my determination rises, we will defeat this beast and come out alive. Talia’s hindered by trying to shield the candle as we run a different way through the buried rooms. The hill is grumbling all around us.
She stops, another landslide is in front, the patter of soil saying it’s new. A last crash from behind and everything is quiet. All I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears and my panting. Talia begins to cough. I close my eyes, my knees weak. Safe, for the moment.
My feeling of safety doesn’t last long. The earth has come through the rooms behind us as well as in front. We have two candles apart from the one that’s lit. Talia paces, her face is grim, mud streaked across her forehead. The land slip's a major one. Everything groans, threatening to move further if we try to dig across the top. A room and a half is all we have between us and a chilly death. Water trickles down, adding to the worry. If there’s a stream coming through, then everything is going to move again. The fact that it’s cold and we have no food are now minor worries – we are unlikely to die from either hyperthermia or starvation.
I state the obvious. “Unless you have any ideas, we’ve no way out.”
Talia’s eyes flash in the candlelight, she starts to speak and then stops herself. Something about the way she looks at me, it’s almost as if she’s biting something back. The fear in her eyes, I think back to the intersection where I tried to take hold of her waist and the way she’d looked up at me then. The two memories slot together in the same way my arm had fitted around her waist. Was Talia somehow that girl who brought me through?
“Talia.” She snarls wordlessly as she paces between the two rooms like a caged animal. I take a deep breath, “Talia. Can you open a rift…?”
“Shut up!”
The scream is deadened by the weight of the earth around us. There’s something in the force of her denial, she’s completely on the defensive. This isn’t the Talia who told Bay rumours and half truths to get what she wanted or the one who flirted with drunken Martie, she’s shaking. Her fists tighten and for a minute I think she’s going to charge me. I raise my hands but refuse to step back.
“You know something.” Her eyes are wide, showing the whites. I’m right, I must be. She’s scared. Tough, if there’s a way out of here, then I’m going to take it. This place is scaring me too. “Talia.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t do it.” She sinks onto the floor, just outside the circle of light. My hope builds, she’s lying badly now, I must be onto something. I feel like a shit bullying a skinny girl, maybe a few years younger than me.
“I saw you.”
“No.” She’s shaking her head, twisting her fingers. “No. I’m a good girl. I got told not to and I haven’t.” When I crouch down next to her, she clutches at my shoulder and peers into my face. “I can’t. He’ll find me.”
“Who?” She goes silent. “Talia. We’ve got to get out of here, we’ll die otherwise. I’ll protect you.” How the hell I’m going to do that, I don’t know. I can’t even protect myself in this world. She curls into a ball, sobbing. The water begins to trickle faster, a pool forming by the wall.
This is bad. Something’s scared Talia badly enough to make her cry. I guess not much does that, however I’m also not keen on staying here, is the wall behind us beginning to bulge? I can’t tell in the candlelight. I light another and the circle grows. Talia’s hunched on the floor, her face pressed into her knees, a bundle of rags and bones. I wrap an arm around her and pull her close.
“Talia. We aren’t going to get out of here without you doing what you’ve been told not to do.” I wince as I try to follow my own sentence. That wall’s definitely bulging. I rub her arm briskly. “Just the once, okay? Maybe whoever it is you’re scared of won’t notice.”
She raises her head and looks into my eyes. I try to look reassuring. “Come on,” I say. I can feel her shaking. There’s a damp stain under my backside, the water’s coming in faster. I help her uncurl and stand up. She sniffs and wipes her eyes.
“I shouldn’t be doing this. I got told not to.”
“Who said so?” I keep my eyes on her to try to give her the confidence I don’t feel. I imagine the pressure of the earth behind the wall, waiting for something to give.
“Mamin, before she disappeared.”
“Try. I told you, I saw you doing this. Take me home Talia.”
Talia closes her eyes, sweat beading her forehead, her hands up in front of her. She concentrates, feeling for something. Her eyes pop open, tears streaking her cheeks, “Can’t.” She’s got a childlike desperation in her eyes, she wants me to believe she can’t do this. She’s got nothing left inside to hide behind.
I stand behind her and put my hands on her shoulder and for once she doesn’t shake me off. “Come on. I saw you do it.” I coax her, “Hold your hands up again, I know you can do this.”
She shakes her head, “I don’t know where to go. It’s not safe.” Her shoulders are slumped, hair hanging over her face.
“My world’s safe. I saw you outside our orchard, don’t you remember?” I see her face twist and remember she doesn’t know what an orchard is. “Okay, I’ll describe the woods on the hill where I live then. They’re like the trees we saw out of Bay’s window, only there are a lot more of them. I walk there every morning with Biggles my dog.”
I rub her shoulders gently as I talk about the tall straight trunks, the brown leaves between the paths and the fresh air when walking before breakfast. The views from between the leaves out over the valley and the roads in the distance. How Biggles loves to race ahead and look back at me, his tongue hanging out in a smile. I tell her that I’m worried that my parents have missed me and my voice catches. A longing sweeps over me, I want to go home.
Talia raises her arms decisively, her face is set, mouth pulled down. Her fingers run over the air and suddenly catch, a grey line appearing. The air in my lungs stops, she can do this. She’s breathing harder now, pulling at it. I stand behind her, watching for the eye wrenching light. She grunts with the effort and a decided split shows in the air. The ground underneath us starts to rumble, the air pressure changing as a smell of soggy earth rises. I move to help and my hand passes through the split, unable to touch it.
“Get your leg into it and pull. I can’t help yet.”
She groans and twists her body into the gap. It shifts reluctantly with a familiar wet sucking sound echoed by the soil starting to move behind. A loud crack, the bricks in front of us begin to shift. In a panic, I grab for Talia’s waist and let her pull us through.
Chapter 10
Once inside the split, I find I can grasp it. That same feeling of being somewhere I shouldn’t, of the rift trying to reject me back into a space that doesn’t exist anymore. I think of the earth collapsing into the rooms behind us and shudder or try to. I hold onto Talia with one arm and push futilely into the rubber with the other. She seems to turn, a blind mole seeking its way through vibration. The muscles in her waist are tight with determination and unlike me, she moves, wriggling and shoving in one direction. All of a sudden the resistance is gone and we’re no longer swimming against the current, rather we are being spat out in a more convenient direction. The same stomach turning feeling as the rift peels apart and we push through to fall into a heap.
I gasp in the familiar smell of beech woods. Last year’s leaves rustle underneath me, crisp and dry. I look up to see the familiar green and blue lace of my own world and close my eyes in relief. Tears leak out and for once I’m not ashamed, Talia has got me home.
A muffled noise makes me turn, Talia is sobbing quietly into her arms. I try to move and against all logic, find a large amount of mud has come through w
ith me. Shuddering, I kick my way free of it and remember the contraption still strapped to my back. I can’t undo the knots, I’ll need a knife to get through them. I crouch close to her and she looks up, smearing the tears away with a muddy hand.
“You did it. You got me back.” I can’t keep my excitement out of my voice.
Talia refuses my hand and stands up, looking around with one shoulder higher than the other. “Never been here in my life.”
I roll my eyes and get my bearings. We’re a little higher than the usual path I take, it’s about half an hour’s swift stride downhill. It’s early morning by the look of the sun, with that tingle to the air saying late spring is turning into early summer.
“Come on.” I hitch the mess of mud and metal higher and turn to walk down. Talia is still staring, her mouth a thin line. I stop and say, “This is my world, I know what I’m doing here.”
“This looks like that place where the nobs live. Like Bay showed us.”
I try for a reassuring smile. “We never did get to see your nobs.”
“They’re not my nobs.” A snarl.
I sigh and go back to her, “Tell me about them while we walk. There’s nothing to fear here, no need to hide.” Her eyes are big and I look down at us, coated in mud and grime. Nothing to fear. Most normal people would avoid us and then call the police. Especially Mrs Pickles, she got the Neighbourhood Watch going and knows everything that happens. My heart sinks as I remember that we will have to sneak past her front window.
Talia walks close to me as we head downhill – not quite on my heels – she leaves a purposeful gap as though proving she doesn’t need to be this close. She doesn’t quite pull it off, flinching at every sound. I’m basking in the clean air. No factories, no mist, only the smell of leaves and farming.
“The nobs live on the hill.” Her voice cuts through my thoughts. “They live behind that wall made from broken down houses. They trade with us.” She spits on the ground, leaving a grey mark oozing on the brown leaves. “They have everything they want.”
“If they have to trade then surely they don’t have everything.”
She snorts her disgust at my reasoning. “They have the best land behind the wall. I talk to Martie. He’s one of their contacts, looks after them and gets them what they want. It’s warm up there on top. They have animals, grow lots of food and make the lamps for the streets. We only have the fish and the mills.”
“You have tidal power.” She looks confused. “You know, the water wheels that power the electric lights and they need the factories to produce goods. You should be on even footings with them, why aren’t you?”
“The mill owners are in with them, they stop people from rebelling.”
“You mean they keep them indentured – keep them tied to the factories?”
She grunts, “People are afraid.”
Having heard the men talking in the evenings I agree and wonder how long it can go on before it all collapses. Yet Talia wasn’t completely innocent in this, she’d been happy enough to sell on information to a nob’s nark when it suited her. I shrug, not my world, no longer my problem.
We reach the edge of the woods. The lane begins and Mrs Pickles’ house appears, sitting in its perfect cottage garden. Following my example, Talia ducks almost to her hands and knees and scuttles under the eyeline of the hedge. I hope Mrs Pickles isn’t in her garden, if she sees me and Talia then it’ll be all around the village. I fumble for an inane story about being knocked over by Biggles to explain the mess I’m in and hope it won’t be needed – nothing can explain Talia’s state.
Her curtains are shut. I breathe a sigh of relief and drag Talia away. The pile of ash is still spread across the footpath and we both give it a wide berth. I shove Talia over the fence and hear Biggles galumphing up the path.
I bang into her as she backs into the fence and all grace gone, fall flat on my face. Biggles takes the opportunity to jump all over me, panting and licking while starting the few deep woofs that will morph into a full on howl that there’s a stranger in our midst. I grab his head and put it into my shoulder, turning it into a play fight. His strong spaniel body wriggles, pushing at me. I wince at his claws, I need to get them cut. I try and smile at Talia through the tears of his head hitting my chin.
“Good boy Biggles. This is Talia.” I snatch at her shrinking hand and give it to Biggles. He decides she must be a friend and makes a leap in her direction. “Down boy.” I grab his collar to stop him jumping all over her. “It’s okay, it’s just Biggles, he won’t hurt you.” She shrinks away, holding her knife. “He’s friendly. I know this place, remember? Put it away.”
I haul on his collar and pull him towards the shed. In the distance, the house is in darkness and the curtains aren’t open yet. I wonder what time it is, Mum’s normally an early riser. I wonder how Biggles got out, I normally keep him in with me. Saying that, I’d not shut him in the night I’d left. I start to panic about how long I’d gone and if my parent’s have called the police to report me missing.
I nod Talia in and firmly shove Biggles out. He stays by the door with a mournful expression and I wince at the familiar smell of cat. I look around, catch sight of the open window and hope it’s a residual smell, then notice Talia’s expression. She’s looking around the shed in wonder.
“Sorry, it still smells of cat.”
“It doesn’t smell at all.” She sniffs and I remember the stink of the world we’ve just left. She’s grimy, her clothes are stiff with dirt. I can’t leave her like this, she’s going to need a shower and clean clothes. “Are you rich?” I shake my head, start to explain that I can’t afford my own place and stop when she says, “Only rich people can afford to live like this.” Her eyes are big, taking in my bed with the thick winter duvet and pillows. Even to me they have the look of luxury after the last week or so.
I find my scissors and cut the contraption off me and rummage through my drawers, pulling out clothes for myself and find a few items that might suit Talia.
“What’s this?” A spitting hiss answers her question. Talia’s hand shoots out and she seizes the cat by the scruff of its neck, dragging it out to hold it dangling. The cat, sensing it’s in the presence of sterner stuff than myself, hangs limply and utters a pathetic pip.
“Good eating on a cat.” She turns it around speculatively. I struggle to stop myself grinning and open the window wider. It’s not had the chance to do anything nasty. I take it from her and dump it on the grass. It glowers at Biggles and stalks away, mortally insulted.
I pick at my jumper, the mud from the landslip hasn’t done it any favours. “I’m going to have a shower, stay here.”
The shower is a recent addition to the shed, an absolute godsend in these circumstances. Dad and I’d considered a toilet but had decided it was too much work, hence Dominic’s need to go outside. How long ago was that? I need to find out and feel the knot of worry tighten, my parents must be beside themselves.
I look in the bathroom mirror. My face is filthy and I feel years older than when I’d last looked at myself. I also need a shave. Carefully I peel my jumper off to look at my shoulder and wince. The brand is a mass of scab, the edges scarlet. No sign of infection, I prod at it gently. It’s not large, but there for the rest of my life. A lump rises, I’d never been one for tattoos and now I was marked.
I strip and let the water run over me. Absolute luxury. I bask in the steam and scrub the days from Narith away. The bottom of the shower turns grey and something about the grey stain disturbs me. I quickly swill it down the plughole.
Talia’s standing in the same spot when I come back. She looks out of place, almost a cartoon character in my normality. Is this how I looked to her in her world? I show her the bathroom and start the shower. She looks dubious but I convince her when I show her the old clothes I’ve found in my drawers. She touches them gently and glowers.
“Don’t come near me in here or I’ll cut your balls off.” I feel those parts of me shrivelling
to the point where she’d never find them. I leave her and the bathroom door slams shut, barely missing me.
I wait, looking at the normality I’ve not had for – how long? A week? Longer? I see the shed through Talia’s eyes. Clean, warm and safe. My whole world is safe, no one would kill or hurt me to survive. Food was a surety every day. The office where they could only cut me down verbally. I could feel myself swelling with confidence, compared to the people I’d met in Talia’s world, they were nothing.
The door bangs open, interrupting my thoughts. Talia with her hair hanging over her eyes, stalks in. Her mood is vibrating through the room, I can tell she’s daring me to laugh at her new clothes.
“We’ll have to do something about your hair, here.” I hand her a hair brush and she looks at it in the same way as I look at the cat’s leavings. “Here,” I repeat and take it from her, tentatively stroking the ends. Her hair is a matted mess. The temptation is just to drag it through. I reach for scissors to cut through the larger knots and she has her knife up before I can cut. I smack her hand away firmly and continue, refusing to respond. She’s shifting constantly, I end up cutting off a lot more, trying to keep the mop as even as possible. I turn her around to look at the front and bite back a swearword. Without realising, I’ve chosen the same clothes worn by the girl I followed through the rift.
She scowls, “What?” She’s been in a foul mood since we’ve arrived.
“I’ve seen you before.” Talia sneers. I look down and realise the only difference is that her clothes are cleaner at the moment. “I saw you, with your hair like this, dressed like this the first time I followed you through.”
Her face, pale from living under grime, is full of the angles of starvation, I notice the lines around her mouth and between her eyebrows. She’s not so much younger than me, she’s just small. My clothes look fashionably baggy, making her into a tiny truculent rapper star. How can this happen? Those clothes have been in my drawer all this time and her hair’s never been that short. Biggles gives a joyful bark outside and I hear Mum call. I freeze, unsure what to do. Talia’s eyes narrow and she draws her knife. Mum calls again.
