Deadlands (18 page)

‘I’ll take her,’ Ash said to Saint. ‘See how she does.’

‘You will?’ Saint asked, looking from him to me in surprise.

‘Take me where?’ I asked.

‘Hey,’ Saint said. ‘If you take her to the market, you can get the veggies.’

‘That’s your job,’ Ash replied.

‘Oh, come on, Ash. Be a pal.’ She grinned at him.

He sighed. ‘Okay, okay.’

‘What is going
on
?’ I asked.

‘You’re about to go on a little outing, Zombie Bait,’ Saint said.

‘Outside?’

‘Of course!’

My life underground had been so intense and absorbing that I’d practically forgotten what the world outside looked like, but now an opportunity had presented itself I realised that I couldn’t wait to feel the sun on my skin again.

Saint handed a list to Ash. ‘Hester says to see if you can get some fresh spinach. And tomatoes, if they’ve got any.’

‘No problem.’

She dug in one of the cupboards under the kitchen sink and handed me a heavy brown robe. ‘Put this on.’

I held it up to my body. ‘But this is a Resurrectionist robe!’

‘Duh!’ Ginger said. ‘You can’t just go out like your normal self, innit. People will think they’ve seen a ghost!’

‘It’s the one good thing the Resurrectionists have done for us. The perfect disguise,’ Saint said.

‘They’re such dumb-asses,’ Ginger added. ‘Think they’re Jedi or summut.’

Ash was already pulling another of the robes over his head and I tugged mine on quickly in case he changed his mind. The wool was scratchy and rough, and hung heavily on my shoulders and arms. Saint threw a lumpy Resurrectionist amulet at me. It was surprisingly weighty, and just touching it made me feel squeamish.

‘Come on,’ Ash said, without looking back to make sure I was going to follow.

‘Don’t forget the spinach!’ Saint called after us.

Ash unlocked the door in the corner of the room, and I followed him down a winding tunnel, this one gloomier than the others.

‘Wait here,’ he said when we reached the end. ‘I need to check the coast is clear.’

Climbing up a rope ladder he hefted up a trapdoor. Light filtered down from above, and I felt the pull of the fresh air.

‘’S’cool,’ he finally said, reaching down and grabbing my hand.

Even though we were in a narrow alleyway, shadowed between two tumbledown shacks, the natural light stung my eyes and I had to blink several times before they adjusted. I took a deep breath of enclave air, drinking in the scents of cooking and dust, before scurrying after Ash, who was already striding towards a bustling thoroughfare. The world seemed huge and buzzing with life after the three weeks or so I’d been down in the tunnels.

‘What part of the enclave are we in?’ I asked him.

‘New Arrivals, of course.’

A group of elderly men, who were sitting outside a mouldy army tent, drinking coffee and chatting, fell silent as we passed. One of them shook his head, leaned forward and spat in our direction.

‘They don’t like Resurrectionists here,’ Ash said quietly to me.

‘Where are we going?’

Ignoring me, Ash hailed a rickshaw driver, who looked as if he was about to pretend he hadn’t seen us.

‘Where to, Comrade?’ the driver asked reluctantly as Ash stepped in front of him, holding up his hand imperiously.

‘Sector 6.’

At first I thought I’d misheard. Sector 6 was my old district – and the longing to see Jobe was almost overwhelming. He had never been far from my thoughts, but I’d convinced myself that I was working on the plan to get us out of the city, which had helped. But now I could barely think about anything else. Not that I thought there was any hope of seeing him.

‘Why are we going there?’ I asked.

‘Best market. Best selection of food,’ Ash said.

‘Did you say something, Comrade?’ the rickshaw driver asked.

‘Have you found your true calling?’ Ash said pompously. ‘Have you accepted the truth?’

He was totally convincing, and I tried not to giggle.

‘Ja, Comrade, I believe I have, Comrade,’ the rickshaw driver said. ‘Oh,
ja
.’

Ash flipped back his hood, smiled at me and winked. He seemed to have lightened up a lot, and I felt my stomach lift. I didn’t want to feel that way about him. He’d spent the last few weeks treating me like crap, and I wasn’t going to forgive him so easily. Still, whenever his thigh jostled against mine in the cramped space, I noticed that he didn’t try to move away.

We didn’t speak during the half hour it took us to wend our way to Sector 6. I was too captivated by the sights, sounds and smells around me; even the low background moaning of the Rotters was a novelty after being underground for so long. But there was something else,
someone
else on my mind – Thabo. We were following the same route as the one we’d taken when he’d brought me to Lungi’s. I wondered if he missed me, if he had, after all, left school to join the ANZ, and if he was still spray-painting slogans around the city.

As we neared Sector 6, the roads became more congested, the buildings more substantial, and more and more Resurrectionists thronged the streets. Ash signalled for the driver to stop, and we drew up outside the looming embassy building.

‘Thank you,’ Ash said, passing some trade credits to the driver.

‘No, Comrade,’ the driver said. ‘That’s quite fine.’

‘I insist,’ Ash said.

The rickshaw driver hesitated, then grabbed the money and hurried off as if he thought Ash was about to change his mind.

‘Why didn’t he want to take the credits?’ I asked.

Ash shook his head in disgust. ‘Most Resurrectionists think they can travel for free. As if it’s their right.’

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Following Ash towards the bustling market place, I suddenly realised that we were right outside the narrow alleyway where Thabo and I had decorated the dumpsters. I couldn’t resist peering into its shadowy depths to see if any traces of our handiwork remained. The dumpsters were covered in overflowing rubbish bags, but I could see a weather-beaten poster that had been tacked up on one of the brick walls. It was a printed version of my Anti-Zombian sketch, the words
Don’t be a Puppet, join the ANZ
printed below the drawing of the huge puppet-master Guardian. So they had used it after all! I almost called out to Ash to show him, but he was striding ahead, and the moment passed.

We were now right in the middle of the market, both of us being buffeted occasionally by passing shoppers. Hawkers and stall holders shouted out their wares, the largest stall of all heaving under the weight of a huge stack of vegetables that must have recently arrived from the Agriculturals.

Ash bought a selection of potatoes and tomatoes, and I picked out a thick bunch of dark green spinach, rummaging through the pile to find the freshest leaves.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Time to start.’

‘Start what?’

‘Your training.’

‘We’re going to train here? Won’t people stare?’

‘We’re not going to fight, Lele.’

‘What then?’

‘It is vital that you know who is around you at all times. To my left, you see that guy with the black hair?’

I turned my head and glanced at the tall guy standing next to an amulet stall. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Guy with the ponytail?’

‘He’s a Resurrectionist guard.’

‘How do you know?’

‘See the lump under his shirt? It’s a cosh. He’s on the lookout for suspicious behaviour.’

I didn’t think anything could be more suspicious than the pair of us checking out everyone in the market place, but obviously I wasn’t going to say that to Ash.

‘The trick is to look around without making it obvious, and also to be aware of who is behind you at all times.’ He walked on. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘behind us there’s a large woman carrying a small child, an elderly War vet with a wooden leg and a teenager who keeps picking at his zits when he thinks no one is watching.’

I glanced around quickly, pretending that I was checking out the woollen sheets draped over a stall. Ash was right. ‘How did you do that?’

‘Practice,’ he said. ‘Let’s walk on. Keep your eyes open.’

It was difficult to see a great deal out of the hood that covered my face, but I did my best to concentrate.

‘Without looking around, who is to our right?’

‘An old woman selling clothes pegs and a street kid with a bandaged arm.’

‘Not bad!’ Ash said. ‘But you missed the guy handing out pamphlets behind them. Try again.’

He was relentless. The training seemed to go on for hours, the sun beating down on us, making me sweat under the heavy fabric. One thing about the Resurrectionist robes: they definitely weren’t made for comfort. But although my brain was beginning to ache, I was getting better and better.

‘Okay,’ Ash finally said. ‘Let’s take a break.’

He walked up to a vendor and bought us both a paper cup of freshly squeezed orange juice.

I gulped it down gratefully. ‘Thanks, Ash,’ I said to him, peering at his face, half-hidden beneath the hood.

‘What for?’

‘For not treating me like you hate me today.’

He blinked. ‘I don’t hate you.’

‘But you’ve been acting like you do.’

He ran a hand over his face. ‘I’m –’

But I never got to hear the rest of his words. From somewhere behind us came an enormous banging sound, as if three huge doors had been slammed one after another –
BANG! BANG! BANG! –
and then a billowing cloud of damp smoke hissed towards us.

Instantly, my eyes felt like they’d been stung by a swarm of wasps. All around us people were screaming, and I felt myself being pushed roughly from behind as a tidal wave of bodies surged forward in a panicked mass. Someone elbowed me painfully in the ribs and someone else grabbed at my arm. I tried to manoeuvre myself free, struggling and twisting, but there was nothing I could do. I was propelled along, my feet barely touching the ground.

As the smoke cleared I rubbed at my eyes, but I’d lost sight of Ash. I looked wildly around, desperately trying to catch sight of him, but my vision was still blurry, my eyes streaming. Then, as I wiped away the tears, I saw a familiar thatch of hair rising above the heads surrounding me. It was Thabo. I was sure of it. I would recognise those dreadlocks anywhere. But as he turned his head and looked at me, the crowd swept me forward again and it was all I could do to stay upright. All around me people were screaming and yelling, mothers shouting for their children, everyone stumbling into each other.

Finally, I fought my way clear of the hysteria and stumbled down a side street. My eyes were feeling slightly better, but my ears were still ringing from the incredibly loud noise, and I sat down shakily at the side of the road, trying to make sense of what had happened. Dazedly, I realised I was still clutching the bunch of spinach Ash had bought earlier, although thanks to my fight through the jostling crowd it was nothing but a mushy mass of squashed leaves and broken stalks.

Then something struck me.

I couldn’t be more than a couple of streets away from my old home. From Jobe.

I stood up.

Pulling my hood as far as possible over my face, I crept up to the window and peered into the kitchen.

Dad and Jobe were sitting at the kitchen table, Chinwag snoozing in a small patch of sunlight next to them. Jobe was pushing one of Chinwag’s jingling toys up and down on the table’s surface while Dad sketched something on a piece of paper. I couldn’t make out his expression, but there was part of me that wanted to believe he looked sad.

I could feel the tears beginning to start, their saltiness stinging my still-raw cheeks and eyes.

As far as my family was concerned, I was dead. I was gone.

‘Lele,’ a voice said behind me. I whirled around. It was Ash. His robe was filthy and ripped in places, but otherwise he looked uninjured. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe.’

‘How did you know where to find me?’

Checking around to make sure no one was watching us he dropped his hood and wiped his hands over his face. ‘I’ve done my homework. We had to know we could trust you. We needed to know as much about you as we could.’

‘What do you mean, trust me?’

‘To ensure that you weren’t actually a spy for the Resurrectionists.’

‘Of course I’m not!’

‘I know that now. But you can’t be here. It’s far too dangerous. If your family knew you were alive . . .’

‘I know. But I just had to see him. My brother.’

An expression I couldn’t read flashed over his face and then he nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘You do?’

‘But you mustn’t do it again. You could put all of us in danger. If the Resurrectionists find you here . . .’

‘I’d never tell! I’d never tell them about you!’

‘Lele, you might not have a choice. Come on, Hester will be worried.’

Pulling his hood over his head, Ash took my arm. ‘We will have to take another route home,’ he said. ‘The road ahead is blocked.’

‘What happened?’

He snorted. ‘Bloody ANZ. Another one of their stupid stunts.’

I thought about Thabo. ‘The ANZ did this? But . . . people could have been hurt.’

‘People
were
hurt, Lele. Not that the ANZ care.’ He sounded furious. ‘And now the Resurrectionists will come down on them even harder, and make life even more difficult for all of us.’

He was right about the route. We were forced to bypass the road that led to the embassy. A line of robed Resurrectionists were standing across the thoroughfare, arms linked, several of them with curved knives and pangas stuck into the leather belts around their waists.

I wondered if the Mantis had been caught in the chaos, surprising myself at the concern I felt for her. After all, as far as I knew, she’d engineered my Lottery win.

‘We have to hurry,’ Ash hissed, leading me away from the roadblock. ‘They will be taking everyone in for questioning soon.’

We turned a corner and I realised that we were in the road that led to the school. A knot of students was gathered in the forecourt around the sculpture, gabbling excitedly. One or two of them appeared to be crying. I caught sight of a flash of plaited hair – Summer – and I couldn’t miss Zyed, dressed in his feathered jacket.