Deadlands (20 page)

‘You’ll see,’ she said with a grin, slipping away between the trees, leaving Ginger and me in a small clearing. We sat down on a couple of logs, and Ginger passed me a Coke from his bag. It would have been pleasant if it wasn’t for the cluster of Rotters shambling aimlessly through a small copse of wattle bushes a little way away from where we were sitting. I could detect their old-book smell above the marshy scent of the grass and arum lilies. I knew they couldn’t sense us, but I still kept half an eye on them. I still hadn’t forgotten that Gran was out here somewhere, but the small pack looked to be mostly male, although it was difficult to be sure as most of them were in a bad way – clothes rotted through, the flesh dried on their bones like biltong, their hairless heads looking way too large for their skeletal bodies. I couldn’t understand how they even managed to stand up.

‘What do the Rotters eat?’ I asked Ginger.

‘Braaaaiiiins,’ he said, holding his arms outstretched and doing his famous zombie impression.

‘No, seriously, Ginger. Do they eat animals and stuff?’

‘Far as I know they don’t eat anything, mate,’ he said.

‘So how do they exist? Where do they get their energy from?’

‘Gawd knows,’ he replied. ‘They keep on going until they collapse, rot away completely, like. Couple of years ago, there were thousands of the buggers. Each year there’s less and less.’

‘So one day there might not be any left?’

‘Only if the Guardians stop taking the newly dead to the bone pile, Lele,’ he said. ‘And that’s not going to happen. Not with the Resurrectionists sucking up to them like they do.’

‘So how long do they last?’ I asked, still thinking about Gran.

‘Depends. Some last for years. I guess it’s all to do with the condition of the body before it’s turned. They’ll still be some knocking around here from the War. And with all them Hatchlings –’

‘You mean the people that are relocated?’

‘Yeah. With them, the zombs will be around for a few years yet.’ He didn’t look too upset about the idea.

Saint reappeared. ‘Come on,’ she said to me.

I followed her past the Rotters and into a small clearing. A huge fig tree loomed above us, its ropey branches extending out like giant looping snakes. In the shadowy copse behind it I could make out the shell of a light aircraft, the windows spider-webbed, the body rusted.

Saint strode up to the tree and stuck a movie poster on to the bark.

‘Hey!’ Ginger said. ‘That’s mine!’

‘You’ve got loads of them,’ Saint said. ‘Besides, that movie was totally lame.’

‘It’s not! It’s a classic.’

The poster showed two blue people with pointy ears, the words
Avatar 3D
beneath them.

‘What are you doing with that?’ I asked.

‘You’ll see.’

She handed me a flick knife, the blade sharp enough to slice the skin of my thumb with only a light touch.

‘Go further back, Lele,’ she said.

I took a step back.

‘Further,’ she called. ‘Keep on going till I tell you to stop.’

I was now a good ten metres away from the tree.

‘Now, throw the knife at the poster, see if you can hit one of the blue cat-people in the head’

‘Not the Na’vis!’ Ginger whined. ‘What did they ever do to you?’

‘Shhh, Ginger. Ready, Lele?’

I weighed the knife in my hand. ‘Do I throw it holding the handle or the blade?’

‘I dunno,’ Saint said. ‘Use your imagination.’

I breathed in deeply, calming myself down as Hester had taught me. I decided to go on instinct, and without even thinking about it, I grasped the knife by the blade and threw it towards the poster. It swished through the air, embedding itself dead centre, straight through one of the character’s eyes. I’d done it! And more importantly, it had felt almost effortless.

‘Woo-hoo!’ Saint cried, looking more excited than I’d ever seen her. ‘I knew it! I knew you were a natural!’

‘That was cool, Lele,’ Ginger said, inching the blade out of the bark. ‘Can I have a go?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

Ginger walked over to me, and I stood back while he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. He chucked the knife towards the tree, but it thunked off the trunk and plopped onto the ground below.

‘Hard luck,’ I said.

‘’S’cool,’ he grumbled. ‘Like my chainsaw better anyway.’

‘Hester will be pleased,’ Saint said sarcastically. To me she said: ‘Hester hates him using that thing. Says it’s impractical.’

‘Whatever,’ Ginger mumbled.

‘Try again, Lele,’ Saint said, folding the knife and chucking it towards me. ‘Make sure it’s not a fluke.’

I threw it again, this time not even hesitating. It found its mark again.

‘I think,’ Saint said, ‘that Zombie Bait’s just found her weapon.’

‘Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.’ Saint shook me awake.

‘What time is it?’

‘Time to get going.’

‘Huh? More training?’

‘Nope. We’re going shopping.’

‘To the market?’

‘Nope.’

I sat up so quickly my head spun. ‘To the mall?’

‘Yebo.’ She threw a pile of clothes on top of me. ‘I think these are your size.’

I leapt out of bed, gathering up the clothes – a gorgeous pair of skinny black jeans, a tight black T-shirt and a hoody with a diamanté skull across the front of it. I’d been wearing everyone’s cast-offs since my arrival, and I couldn’t wait to try on Saint’s gift. Running to the bathroom, I jumped under the shower, dried off as fast as I could and pulled on the new outfit, the crisp clothes feeling wonderful against my skin. I tucked the knife into my belt, and smoothed back my hair. It was growing longer, and soon I’d actually be able to do something with it. This was it! I was finally going on a mall run!

Ash, Ginger, Saint and Hester were all waiting for me in the kitchen. Hester put a bowl of porridge in front of me, but I didn’t have a clue how I was possibly going to manage swallowing it.

As usual she read my mind. ‘You must eat, Lele. You have a long walk ahead of you.’

I gulped it down, barely feeling the heat of it.

‘Lele,’ Saint said, handing me a piece of paper. ‘Newbie list.’

I scanned it:

13 pairs XL panties

2 x 38 DD bras

5 x socks (large)

3 x packets of boys’ boxer shorts (small)

‘You’re doing the underwear run,’ Saint said with a grin. ‘Nice and light.’

‘Oh, good,’ I said sarcastically.

‘I’ll swap if you like,’ Ginger said.

‘What are you getting?’

‘Books,’ he said with a sneaky grin.

‘Cool!’ I said, snatching the list out of his hand. I was dying to check out the bookstore.

‘You do realise that you’ll have to carry them back though, right?’ Saint said.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I can handle it.’

She shared an eye-rolling glance with Ash, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t wait to get out there.

I know it’s probably my memory playing tricks, but, looking back on it now, the day seemed absolutely perfect. The sky was a flawless blue, the air was crisp – so still, in fact, that I was sure I could hear the faint crash of the unseen ocean on the other side of the enclave – and we’d set off so early that the dew was still glistening on the leaves of the Port Jacksons, huge spider webs shining like jewelled lace in every tree. Everything felt like it was coming together and even the occasional sight of a pack of Rotters on our way to the mall couldn’t dampen my spirits.

We came across a clutch of feral kittens mewling inside a nest burrowed out of an old car seat, their eyes still closed. Their mother hissed a warning at me when I got too close. Her colouring reminded me of Chinwag, and I was hit with another jolt of longing as my thoughts turned immediately to Jobe. But now that I was actually on my way to making some trade credits, my plan to return to the Agriculturals seemed to be finally within my reach.

I paused occasionally to practise throwing the knife at a tree stump or termite hill. I was improving fast; I could now hit my target from more than twelve metres away.

‘You totally rock at that, Lele,’ Ginger said, shaking his head in admiration.

‘So, Ginger,’ I said. ‘What do you do with the credits you make?’

He held up the chainsaw. ‘Fuel. Costs a fortune.’

‘What, all of it?’

‘Yeah. Have to keep the generator going as well, innit. Can’t do without my movies. That would be a disaster.’

‘Where do you get the fuel from?’

‘Guy I know at the embassy.’

‘At the embassy?’

‘Don’t sound so shocked, Lele,’ Ginger said. ‘Everyone’s on the take.’

‘And you guys?’ I asked Ash and Saint.

‘We don’t do it for the money,’ Saint snapped.

‘Well, Ash does, don’t you, mate,’ Ginger said.

Saint scowled at him and once again Ginger blushed a deep red under his freckles. I wondered if maybe Ash had a girlfriend, although I didn’t understand why the idea gave me a sudden flush of jealousy. He was definitely hiding something. After all, he’d slipped away on some secret errand several times in the weeks I’d been holed up in the tunnels.

We walked on in silence – pausing only once, so that Ash could have a smoke and Ginger and I could chug down a Coke – until we pushed through a grove of trees and stepped out on to the grassed-over highway, the roller coaster’s arced skeleton gleaming at us over the tops of the trees in the morning sunlight. Ash rummaged in his rucksack and handed us each a square box with an aerial attached.

‘What’s this?’ I asked.

‘A walkie-talkie. It’s the only way we can keep in touch in there. But only use it when you have to.’

He briefly showed me how it worked (it was fairly straightforward), and I attached it to my belt next to my knife.

‘Welcome to our world, Lele!’ Ginger said.

I stood outside the mall, hesitating before I followed Ash and Saint inside.

‘What you waiting for?’ Ginger asked.

‘I still can’t believe it’s here.’

‘Tell me about it. Makes you wonder what the Guardians are up to, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, don’t worry, mate. It’ll be cool, you’ll see.’

The interior was just as I remembered it, right down to the tinkly muzak.

‘Lele,’ Saint said, ‘you know where the bookstore is?’

I shook my head. ‘I’ll find it, though.’

Saint and Ash shared another of their glances, and Ash sighed. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.

‘It’s cool,’ I said. ‘I don’t need to be babysat.’

‘It’s your first run. You shouldn’t go alone.’

I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. I wasn’t going to argue.

‘Laters, alligators,’ Ginger said, heading towards the escalators.

‘Ginger!’ Ash called. ‘No messing around. Get what’s on the list, no added extras, okay?’

Ginger put on an expression of mock-hurt. ‘Who, me?’

Saint shook her head, gave us a small ironic salute and stalked off on her own mission.

‘Come on,’ Ash said to me.

We walked in silence down the deserted aisles, making our way past an enormous food court. It was spooky weaving through the hundreds of empty tables and chairs that would probably never be filled again (at least by anyone breathing). Draped above a restaurant entrance there was a banner that read
Happy Birthday Bongani!
, and I shuddered at the thought of the horrific birthday surprise he must have had. We passed signs for the mall’s cinema complex, the walls lined with posters for the films that had been showing when it all kicked off – films that Ginger would never get a chance to see.

‘Here we are,’ Ash said, pausing underneath the Exclusive Books sign. ‘You got the list?’

I nodded absently, my eyes already greedily scanning the shelves, taking in the titles.

‘Earth to Lele?’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve got the list.’

He took it out of my hand. ‘Okay. Listen up. Two Bibles, three copies of the Qur’an, four
Twilights
, the
Norton Anthology of Poetry
,
This Carting Life
,
Zoo City
,
Pride & Prejudice
and
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
. And that’s just the start.’

Searching for the titles on the list was almost like a treasure hunt, and I found myself enjoying the challenge. The poetry books were easy to find, ditto the Harry Potter novel and the
Twilight
s, but I struggled to track down the old-school religious books.

‘And this,’ Ash said, handing me a copy of
World War Z
.

‘This isn’t on the list.’

‘It’s Ginger’s birthday in a couple of days,’ he explained. ‘And you know what he’s like with Zombie stuff.’

I followed him over to the magazine aisle, where he picked up a copy of
Hello!
magazine, a picture of a probably long-dead (or living dead) celebrity posed cheerfully on the cover. ‘For Saint.’

‘Saint reads this kind of thing?’

‘Yeah. But don’t let on I told you.’

A pile of yellowing
Sunday Times
newspapers caught my eye, the words
Kick Off!
in inch-high letters across the front page of the top copy. They were dated June 2010, and I was hit again by that feeling of being in a time warp.

He grinned. ‘You okay to find the rest?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

And with that he headed towards the back of the store, seeming to become immediately absorbed in the African literature section.

I sourced the rest of the books on the list (the
SAS Survival Guide
, a cookery book that weighed a ton and a couple of copies of
The Long Walk to Freedom
), shoved a sketchbook and a couple of biros in the rucksack, and then traipsed over to the children’s section. I sat down on the carpet and pulled out copies of
The Hungry Caterpillar
and
Where the Wild Things Are
– titles that jogged something in my memory. Mom or Dad must have read them to us before life changed forever.

A grinding sound jolted me out of my daydreams.

I stood up and looked around the store, but Ash wasn’t anywhere to be seen. My stomach dipped: I hadn’t forgotten about the roaring noise I’d heard the first time I had found myself in the mall.