by P. J. Sky
It was especially hot that day and Ari’s throat was parched. The tang of salt and red dust hung on her lips. Briefly, she stopped filling the buckets. She got out her canteen and took a few swallows of the metallic tasting water. She coughed a little and with her palm, she wiped beads of sweat from her shaven head, feeling the tiny bristles. A welcome breeze slipped across the plain, but otherwise there was no shelter here.
In the haze, not too far away, a scrawny Angu woman, her dark skin baked hard to a leathery shell, was working the ground with a pickaxe. Bent over, her back hunched, the woman used the tool to lever up wedges of the salty crust.
Maybe, wondered Ari, I should get a pickaxe.
Pickaxes were hard to come by though, she’d have to use a lot of half-moon coins.
Would it really be easier? How long would it take to earn the coins back?
She looked at her own dry and calloused hands, powdered white with the salt. To buy a pickaxe would be making a plan. It would be committing to this place forever. That’s what’s wrong with buying a pickaxe. First you buy a pickaxe, then you buy a shovel, then you’re wheeling a cart down here. It’s become a plan. But, there is no future here. Here is existing.
You could go to the ore mines, she thought.
But no, that’s worse. Then you’re signing up to slave drivers. This was hard yak all right, but that was worse. Better to die here, digging up salt with your bare hands, than go there. At least here you’re free. But free to do what? To go back to the city? It was impossible. Outsiders weren’t allowed, and that was what she was now.
Then why not give in and go to the mines? Better yet, why not buy a pickaxe?
She looked at the Angu woman again.
If I don’t leave this place, that’s me in ten years. Just as much a slave as I would be in the mines. So you have to make some plan Ari, or you’re gonna die here. You’re gonna die in a place you were never even supposed to be.
But that’s all in the past, she told herself. Ain’t no sense thinking like that now.
But this place’ll kill you Ari. You think that woman’s gonna last many more seasons? She can’t stand straight now. I bet the ore mines wouldn’t even take her, and nor would anyone else.
Sighing, she got back on her knees and continued to shovel salt into her buckets.
Later, with the big red sun eating into the horizon, Ari emptied her final buckets onto the salt mounds. People were still filling and stitching sacks and heaping them up ready for the camel trains in the morning. At the quartermaster’s table, the quartermaster counted the marks next to her name. He nodded to himself. Across one side of his face, the heavy scar looked pinker than yesterday.
“Alright,” he said. “Two dollars today.”
“What?” said Ari. “Come on Wheels, I moved more salt than yesterday.”
The quartermaster looked up at her and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry Ari, today’s two dollars.”
Ari rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
She held out her salt covered palm and the quartermaster fumbled in the bag on his desk and took out four half-moon coins, each a dull metallic grey. Dented and chewed, they’d changed hands many times. Ari slipped the precious coins into her trouser pocket.
“Be seein’ ya,” said the quartermaster.
Ari nodded. “Whatever.”
She sulked away, head down. She knew it wasn’t the quartermaster’s fault. He was all right, one of the good ones. But last year she was making three dollars a day.
There you go making plans again Ari, dreaming of more than your lot. Thinking what you might do with three dollars a day. Earn enough for a camel maybe, or a donkey. But then, where’re you gonna go? You gonna go back to the city? Become one of those bottom feeders begging at the gates. They don’t open the wall to no one. You could leave Cooper though. Go someplace else. But, she reminded herself, dreaming is dangerous. First you start at dreaming, then you start at hoping. Before you know it, you’re praying to the Maker and you’re one step away from total despair.
Ari wasn’t one for praying, in this life she looked out for herself. There had to be somewhere better than here though.
She stopped by a stall and picked up a tough flatbread about the size of her fist; one dollar, two half-moon coins. Grain from the city in exchange for the salt. The baker palmed her coins in his big, wiry hands, veins and bones all knotted together. On the counter behind the baker, Ari saw the heap of flatbreads and her stomach groaned for the first time that day, a reminder she’d not yet eaten. She’d toiled all day in the baking sun with nothing to sustain her but a few swallows of the metallic tasting water. Most days it was all she needed. Now she smelt the fresh bread, slightly sweet, slightly sour, and she was starving.
At the well, she refilled her canteen. The well and the salt, that was Cooper; drink the water, sell the salt. She took a long swig and almost choked. As she lowered her canteen again, she watched the sun slip over the horizon and disappear. Gradually, the sky grew a pale pink.
At night, it was safer to hide away. She couldn’t afford a safe house, some place they locked at night, so she lived outside of town in one of the many tiny caves that pockmarked the north ridge, forming a discreet diaspora. Here, people kept to themselves.
In the half-light, she made her way down the familiar slope. When she was closer, she saw the tarp, which normally concealed the entrance to her cave, had fallen inwards. Quietly, she placed down her buckets and yolk and drew the makeshift blade she kept sheathed against her ankle.
“I know ya there,” she said. “Get outa’ ‘ere before I send the dog down.”
Silence.
Maybe, she thought, the wind had blown open the flap? But that hadn’t happened before, and today was no windier than it had been all season. What about an animal? If it was a dingo, it’d already be gone, or else it’d be making a lot more noise. Cautiously, Ari made her way down the hole. It was dark and silent. If someone was there, they were staying mighty quiet.
Carefully, Ari reached around the entrance and retrieved the tiny clay oil lamp she kept close by. She retreated up the hole. She knelt on the ground and, from her pocket, she removed her flint and small metal fire-starter. Two firm strikes and it was lit. Lamp in one hand and blade in the other, she descended back into the hole.
She lived in a cave, just big enough to stand, and long enough to lie down flat on a bed of salt sacks. Lying unconscious on the bed, her hands bound behind her back, was a girl in a long blue dress.
Chapter 4
“What the…?”
This hadn’t happened before.
Ari glanced back the way she’d come. Darkness had fallen completely and the moon was yet to rise. She scanned the hillside for any sign of a trail, but it was impossible to make out anything.
She turned back to the girl that lay unconscious on the salt sacks.
I gotta think fast, she thought. Otherwise, whoever she is, she’ll land us both in trouble.
Ari placed the oil lamp back in its little hole by the entrance. The weak orange glow reflected around the walls of the cave. She rearranged the tarp so that the light wouldn’t draw attention.
She looked back at the girl. “What ya doin’ ‘ere sister?”
The girl didn’t stir.
I should drag her outside, she thought. I don’t need this, this ain’t my problem.
But if the girl didn’t wake, the dingoes might get her, or something worse. The dingoes didn’t tend to come too close to town, but there were other dangers besides dingoes and this girl looked like she’d already found a few. Besides, it didn’t do to go throwing folks out into the desert at night. That wasn’t the way. Treat strangers kindly, because you never know when you might be one yourself.
Ari sighed. “Well, ya can’t just go droppin’ in like this.”
With her foot, Ari gave the girl’s ribs a gentle prod. There was no response. Ari drew her leg back, ready to kick again, this time harder, but the girl looked so helpless. A memory
intruded on Ari’s mind, something that had happened long ago. She had been kneeling by a bed. The skin had looked so thin and yellow and she'd seen right through to the bones.
Two things got nothing to do with each other, she thought. And that was all on her.
A small lump formed in Ari’s throat.
The girl looked like she’d come from the city; no one around here wore dresses like hers, even one torn and covered with dirt. She looked young, maybe the same age as Ari. Little cuts and bruises blemished her pale skin. Her bare feet were grazed and covered in red dust, her heart shaped face smeared in blue makeup and dry blood. It had been a long time since Ari had seen anyone wear makeup. The girl had long dark hair that was trying to hold some sort of elaborate shape, but was now failing. On her left temple, the lightly swollen skin was broken and a red stain had seeped into the salt sack beneath. The dress was beautiful; it was long and a deep blue and had a strange shimmering texture.
She’s probably an exile, thought Ari. Well, no going back now sister. You crossed the city, now you’re just the same as the rest of us.
Ari knelt by the girl.
Maybe I should undo her binds. I guess it seems like the least I can do. That way she might have a fighting chance outside the cave.
The knots were tight and difficult to undo. The thin rope dug into the girl’s skin. Ari resorted to using her blade to tug the cords free. She loosened the noose and slid it from the swollen wrists. The hands were small, the fingers fine though they were red and bruised. The sparkly blue lacquer on the chipped nails caught the light of the oil lamp and flickered. Long ago, Ari recalled seeing such things.
The girl stirred. She mumbled quietly, opened her eyes and looked at Ari. She flinched and jerked away.
“Hey, hey,” said Ari.
The girl contracted her body into the corner of the cave and stiffened. Her eyes were wide and they fidgeted like those of a scared animal. Even by the dim light of the oil lamp, Ari could see they were a vivid deep blue. The lamplight caught storm-like flecks of cyan and sapphire, swirling around large, dark pupils.
The girl began to shake, breathing in sudden, shallow bursts. She pulled her arms to her chest and inspected her wrists with her fingers, then she pressed frantically at the inside of her left forearm as if she expected something to happen. She paused. Her trembling fingers stretched out across her forearm and she started to scratch it. She looked at Ari.
“Where am I?”
“Just outside Cooper.”
“Where’s Cooper?”
Ari shrugged. “Dunno. It’s Cooper.”
“But I mean, where’s the city?”
“Depends which way ya go. Right ‘ere though, might as well be the other side of the world.”
The girl fell silent and dropped her eyes.
Ari scratched at the side of her neck. That was the longest conversation she’d had in a long time. “So,” she said, “what ya doin’ in my cave?”
The girl looked at Ari and shrugged.
“Look. This is my place right so ya better start answerin’ some ‘a my questions or ya can take this up with the dingoes eh?”
Wide eyed, the girl didn’t respond.
Ari sighed. “So ya from the city?”
The girl nodded.
“Banished?… Look, ya gonna have to learn some hard lessons if you’re set on makin’ it out ‘ere.”
“I want to go back.”
“Well you an’ me both sister, but ain’t gonna happen. No one goes back so ya gonna have to get used to it ‘ere. But not right ‘ere. This is my place.”
The girl’s eyes reddened. A blue tear rolled down her cheek. Ari rolled her eyes.
Dag it. How did this happen? What did I do to deserve this tonight?
The girl sniffed.
“Look, ya can’t stay ‘ere, okay? This is my place. Ya need to move on.”
The girl drew her legs to her chest and hugged them. She began to shudder. More blue tears stained her cheeks.
“Dag it,” said Ari and slapped her palm against the floor. Her palm stung and she balled up her fingers. The lump in her throat grew.
Ari looked about the cave, avoiding the girl’s eyes. She looked at the oil lamp and the plastic bottles full of oil and water she’d wedged into cracks and the bits of broken pottery and coloured beads she’d arranged on tiny rocky shelves. One jagged piece of glazed white porcelain had blue markings that looked like part of a bird.
This girl couldn’t stay, that’s for sure. She’d have to go find somewhere else to cry. I live alone, no trouble from no one, and I like it that way.
Ari’s eyes came to rest on a fuzzy chalk image she’d carefully scraped onto one wall. It was only small. It showed a hut with a chimney with two stick figures standing next to it. She sighed and looked back at the girl.
“Look,” she said. “What are ya doin’ ‘ere?”
The girl gulped heavily. “They took me.”
“Who took ya?”
“I don’t know. It was my birthday and I wore my favourite dress and I was in the penthouse and they took me and I woke up out here and then some men came and I thought they would kill me and I escaped and now I’m here and I don’t even know where here is and I don’t know what to do and I just want to go home.”
“Sister, I don’t even know what ya sayin’.”
The girl continued to sob quietly.
“Fine.”
Treat strangers kindly, because you never know when you might be one yourself. That’s what they say I guess.
Ari found a rag, close to clean, from the pile at the foot of her bed. She took her canteen and emptied a little of the water onto the rag. She crawled over to the girl. Leaning forward, she gently started to clean the wound on the girl’s temple. The girl’s face and arms were lightly speckled in spots of red.
The girl stopped shuddering and grew quiet.
“So, what do they call ya?”
“Starla,” said the girl.
“Starla eh. Well, I’m Ari. Maka knows why I’m tellin’ ya that though. So, ya got some place to go? Ya with people? Your people I mean?”
The girl shook her head.
“Well, guess ya kinda lucky to run into the only person in this town who’s actually been to Alice.”
“Alice?”
“The city. Folks out ‘ere, sometimes they call it Alice.”
“Why?”
Ari shrugged. “Dunno, don’t care. But they do.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Been there, from there.”
“How come you’re here?”
Ari paused. “Well… Let’s save that story for another time eh.”
She finished wiping Starla’s face and found herself drawn to the long, curved eyelashes.
“Are ya lashes real?”
The right corner of Starla’s lip curled subtly upwards. She reached up and pulled one away.
“False.”
She pulled away the other and her deep blue eyes were even more vivid.
“Can I?”
Starla held forward the lashes and Ari took them. She inspected them closely in the dim light. They were so delicate and fine and, briefly, she was captivated. She moved them gently with her finger, feeling them tickle her palm.
“You keep them,” said Starla.
Ari’s cheeks warmed and she grinned. She looked briefly to Starla but couldn’t hold her gaze. “I just didn’ see nothin’ like that in a long time.” She closed her fingers and pocketed the lashes.
“So seriously,” said Starla, “how far are we from the city?”
“Well, ya could walk it. It’d take ya days though.”
“How many?”
“I dunno, maybe a week. Maybe more.”
“Any other way?”
Ari smiled. “Sure, you could drive, but there’s no fuel. An’ folks who ‘ave fuel don’t wanna share it. There’s old trucks an’ things but none of ‘em work. Or you could get a camel or a mule but I’m gues
sin’ ya don’t have no money?”
Starla shook her head.
“See, I didn’t think so. An’, well, you can try to earn the money, but trust me sister that’d take ya a hell of a long time.”
“You know the way?”
“Sure I do, but you know, it won’t do ya any good. No one gets into the city.”
“They’ll let me in.”
“An’ what makes ya think that? You’re an exile now sister.”
“No I’m not, I’m the mayor’s daughter.”
Ari raised her eyebrows.
“So do you want to get back in?”
“Of course,” said Ari. Who didn’t wanna get back into the city? Even folks who’ve never been spend all their days dreaming of getting inside those walls. But most who make the journey still wind up on the outside, taunted by those glittering towers of glass and steel just beyond the wall.
“Well,” said Starla, “if you can get me back, I can get you in.”
∆∆∆
“So what makes ya think I can get ya back to the city?”
Ari’s pale grey eyes had grown wide. Among their whites, angry red blood vessels formed like the lines of a map. Deep creases folded around her dark eyelids and the muscles in her cheeks tensed as if she was about to squint.
“You can,” said Starla. “You know the way. It’s a simple exchange, you get me back, I get you in.”
“An’ they’ll let me in?”
“Of course they will, I’m the mayor’s daughter. I’m one of the most important people in the city.”
Even if she wanted to, Starla had no idea if she could get this girl into the city, but right now that wasn’t important. Right now she needed to get back by any means necessary. And once close enough to the city walls, she could call inside using the telephone implanted in her left arm. As soon as her hands were free, she’d pressed her fingers to the skin, but nothing had happened. She was probably too far from the city.
