Deadlands (23 page)

‘Saint! Listen!’ I said.

‘No, you listen! You might have killed us all. We have to get out of here fast!’

She practically threw me over the counter and frogmarched me out of the shop.

Ash jogged towards us, looking from me to Saint in confusion. ‘What’s going on?’

‘You won’t believe what this . . . this . . . idiot has just done, Ash!’ Saint said, grabbing my bag and throwing it towards him.

‘It’s not what you think!’ I said. ‘I was just getting some painkillers for Hester!’

Ash rooted through the bag, pulling out the underwear and chucking it onto the tiles. The condoms and painkillers spilled around us.

‘Oh, yeah?’ he said, picking up a condom box and raising an eyebrow. ‘What sort of painkillers are these?’

Saint dropped my arm and snorted. ‘Lele, Lele, Lele . . . You got a boyfriend? Is that it?’

I shook my head and tried to meet Ash’s eyes. I’d never felt so mortified. ‘No!’ I said. ‘I was just –’

‘Where’s Ginger?’ Saint said to Ash.

‘On his way.’

‘Good. We’d better get moving, if they’ve –’

But it was then that the lights went out.

I’d never experienced darkness like it – a flat, impenetrable blackness. There were no windows in the lower levels, no source of natural light, and I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.

Seconds later the muzak cut out. The silence was almost as terrifying as the darkness. ‘Oh, shit,’ Ash whispered. ‘We’re done for.’

The sound of roaring – the same sound that I’d heard the first time I was in the mall – floated towards us from another level, sounding louder by the second.

‘Guardians!’ Ash said. ‘Saint, you got a torch?’

‘Somewhere,’ she said. I heard her swearing under her breath as she searched through her bag.

‘Look!’ I said. Ahead of us there was a light bobbing our way – the beam of a torch.

‘Guys!’ It was Ginger. ‘Um . . .’ he said. ‘You might want to run right about NOW!’

From behind us came a series of ear-splitting bangs and pops, followed by a long drawn-out whistle that made my ears ring. Showers of colour and blasts of shimmering light blazed around us, punctuated by the
rat-a-tat-tat
of what I later found out were cherry bombs. We were right in the centre of a huge indoor fireworks display.

‘Ruuuun!’ Ginger yelled.

We didn’t need telling twice.

We didn’t stop running until we reached the clearing where we’d shared the braai on the previous mall run. All of us were completely out of breath, and we threw our rucksacks down on the ground and slumped down next to them.

Ash lit a cigarette, and Ginger cracked a can of Coke. Behind her sunglasses, Saint’s face was impassive, but I knew she was still seething. Not even Ginger would meet my eyes.

No one spoke, and the silence hung heavy. I knew it was up to me to break it. ‘I’m sorry, guys,’ I said, knowing that this was woefully inadequate.

‘Just don’t talk,’ Saint snapped. ‘We’ll let Hester decide what to do with you.’

‘I was only trying to help,’ I mumbled.

‘Help who? Yourself? If it wasn’t for Ginger’s quick thinking we would all be dead!’

‘How cool was that, though?’ Ginger said. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that. And, like, I was at the Game store, getting the paraffin, and I thought –’

Saint cut across Ginger, jabbing a finger in my direction. ‘Stupid, selfish
bitch
.’

For the first time in weeks I was hit by a familiar jolt of anger. I didn’t plan my next words. They shot out by themselves. ‘You’re pathetic,’ I spat. ‘All of you.’

Saint yanked off her glasses. ‘
What
did you just say?’

The look of surprised hurt on Ginger’s face was awful to see, but I hardened my heart.

‘I said, you’re pathetic. Hester is dying and you do nothing!’

Saint stood up and strode towards me, and I sprang to my feet to meet her. She grabbed the front of my jacket and pushed me backwards. I let her think she had the upper hand and then I grabbed her wrist and twisted it around, forcing her to let go.

‘You know the rules, Lele!’ Saint snapped. ‘What you did was unbelievably stupid and selfish!’

‘You’re the selfish ones!’ I kicked at a rucksack. ‘You bring back all this kak that people don’t really need. There are people dying! Hester’s dying! We need to do more! We need to help!’

‘Help who?’ Saint spat. ‘And why? The people chose to be ruled over by the Resurrectionists, Zombie Bait.
They
voted them into power, not us.’

‘I know . . . but look what’s happening! First the relocations, now the Lottery. What’s next? We have to do something.’ The anger had fizzled out as fast as it had come upon me.

Saint shook her head. ‘Yeah, right, Lele. But what have they ever done for us?’

We gathered around Hester’s bed and Saint wasted no time filling her in on what I’d done, punctuating her tirade with vicious glances in my direction.

Hester listened carefully, her expression steady, her eyes never leaving Saint’s face.

When it looked as if Saint had run out of steam, Hester nodded and turned to me. To my surprise she smiled and reached over to take my hand. ‘Lele’s heart was in the right place,’ she said.

‘But she put us all in danger!’ Saint said.

Hester nodded. ‘Yes, she did. But maybe she has a point. You would do well to listen to her, Saint.’

‘Why? The people are stupid! Why should we do anything for them? If they want to believe that the Guardians are their saviours, then let them. We know better.’

‘Yes. But things are different in the enclave now, Saint. It is no longer a case of a small minority of believers supporting the Guardians and Resurrectionists. Now they are impinging on everyone’s rights.’

‘I don’t believe this!’ Saint said, standing up and throwing her arms out in exasperation. ‘I don’t believe you’re taking her side!’

‘There are no sides here, Saint,’ Hester said. ‘Lele was trying to help me. She says she wanted to help the sick, of which there are many among us. That she wanted people to be able to be together without being forced to have children. Things have changed very quickly. You know this. Now the Resurrectionists are making the people’s choices for them. Remember, I have seen this happen before in the past. It does not bode well for the city, or for the people in it.’ She paused to smother a cough.

‘What if the Guardians ambush us when we go back to the mall?’ Saint asked.

‘That is a chance you have to take,’ Hester said. ‘But I think it is time that we began to think of a way in which we can help.’

‘We can’t!’ Saint said. ‘You know what happened to Ripley. You
know
.’ And suddenly I understood. It wasn’t Ash who had been in love with Ripley. It was Saint.

‘Oh, Saint,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

She looked at me, and then something happened that I never thought I’d see in a million years. Tears started to fall down her cheeks. ‘You don’t understand!’ she said. ‘None of you do.’

I walked up to her and gave her a hug. She stiffened and tried to pull back, then finally relaxed. ‘I do,’ I said. ‘I really do.’

I looked at all of them in turn. ‘I’m sorry, guys,’ I said. ‘If you want me out, that’s fine. But I had to do it, and I can’t promise I won’t try and help in the future. I’m sorry.’

Ginger nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. ‘’S’cool, Lele,’ he said. ‘You’re all right with me.’

Ash nodded, but his mask was still in place.

‘Saint?’ I said.

She stepped away from me, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Next time,’ she said, ‘at least tell us so that we know, okay?’

I nodded.

Ginger clapped his hands, clearly relieved that the tension had passed for now. ‘So, guys,’ he said, ‘who’s in the mood for a bromance?’

After three days of slightly frosty treatment, the Mall Rats – even Ash – seemed to forgive me. Of course they didn’t know that I’d put them in danger because of Thabo – as far as they were concerned I’d acted mainly for Hester’s sake – but eventually things returned to something approaching normality. Ginger joshed and joked and tried to get me to watch
Diary of the Dead
with him, Saint went rigidly on with my training, and Ash was his usual quiet self, though occasionally I was sure I caught him looking in my direction.

But I knew I’d screwed up. I couldn’t risk putting them in danger again, even for Jobe’s sake, even if I
was
helping other people.

Hours would speed by as I sketched in my room, lost in my thoughts, desperate to figure out what to do next. I really didn’t want to face Thabo and break the news to him that I’d failed miserably, that it didn’t look hopeful that I could
ever
get him what he wanted. And there was something else. The same intense thoughts whirred and whirled around my mind. I’d betrayed the Mall Rats, yes, but the Resurrectionists had betrayed the people they were supposed to serve, and if Thabo was right, it was only going to get worse. I thought back to the funeral, to Rickety Legs and his followers. Back when I’d thought the Resurrectionists were just some crazy harmless cult. Before I knew how dangerous they actually were.

My thoughts turned more and more often to Jobe. I wondered what he was doing, what he was feeling. I needed to get some perspective in my life. I needed to see my brother.

So, one night I waited until I was sure that Saint was fast asleep, pulled on my clothes as quietly as I could and tiptoed through the training room and into the lounge. The generator was still humming in the background, and Ginger was snoring in front of the flickering television. He didn’t stir as I grabbed a Resurrectionist robe and scuttled past him and out into the tunnel.

The night air was fresh and faintly chilly, and for once I was glad of the robe. The New Arrivals’ area was deathly quiet – the market shut down, the streets oddly naked without their bustling hawkers, hollow-eyed street kids and musicians – but I didn’t allow myself to feel even slightly scared. One thing about the Deadlands: Once you’ve been out there, surrounded by the dead, the living aren’t anywhere near as scary.

Or so I thought then.

It took me well over an hour to reach Sector 6. The streets were lit only by moonlight, the houses blank-faced and dark, and I lost my way several times. I’d encountered only a handful of people on my trek: a few Resurrectionist guards who I’d avoided by slipping into the less-used thoroughfares; a couple of drunks, high on home-brewed pineapple beer and dagga; and a small group of teenagers, out on a night-time adventure.

Finally, I paused outside the front door, holding my breath to listen for any sounds within, but all the windows were dark and the only noise was the occasional moan from the Rotters behind the fence. I turned the handle and walked softly into the kitchen.

I should have thought ahead and brought a torch. I knocked my shin painfully on a wooden chair as I struggled to get my bearings. Praying that I hadn’t alerted anyone to my presence, I stood stock-still and counted to ten. Silence. Then, stupidly, I allowed myself to relax.

‘Don’t move,’ a familiar voice said from the doorway behind me. ‘Stay where you are or you’re dead.’

I whirled around, fists raised. There was the sputtering hiss of a match and an oil lamp flickered into life. The Mantis was staring straight at me, her eyes wide, her usually rigidly plaited hair in disarray. She was clutching a huge kitchen knife in her right hand, the blade glinting in the light, and for the first time I saw a trace of the old warrior in her: she was holding it as if she knew exactly how to use it.

‘There’s nothing to steal here. Leave now or I’ll call the guard.’

‘Hello, Cleo,’ I said, pulling the hood back from my face.

‘Lele!’ she said, and then her body seemed to sag as if her muscles had suddenly decided to stop working.

‘Surprised?’ I asked.

Her mouth opened and closed almost comically, and then a single tear glimmered and ran down her cheek. That threw me. I hadn’t been expecting
that
reaction. I waited for the anger to take over, but it didn’t come. All I felt was an overwhelming tiredness.

There was the thump of feet in the hallway, and Dad appeared at the door. ‘Lele?’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘Is it really you?’

He walked towards me as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. In the poor light he looked years older. New lines were etched around his mouth, his clothes hung off his frame and grey stubble peppered his cheeks. He wrapped his arm around me. It had been years since he’d given me a hug – more years than I could remember – and I found myself hugging him back. When I stood back his eyes were wet.

But I couldn’t let my emotions take over. I turned back to the Mantis. ‘So, Cleo,’ I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. ‘Your plan didn’t work. I’m not that easy to get rid of.’

‘What are you talking about, Lele?’ Dad asked, looking from me to the Mantis and back again.

‘Why did you do it?’ I asked. ‘Was it because of Jobe?’

‘Do what?’ She stared at me with what appeared to be genuine confusion.

‘Made sure that I won the Lottery, of course.’

‘I would never do such a thing!’

‘I don’t believe you, Cleo. No one else could have done it.’

She sank into a chair. ‘But, Lele, it was a huge mistake.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Afterwards, Comrade Xhati – he told us that your name had been entered into the draw by mistake. Comrade Nkosi started a whole enquiry. It was just a horrible misunderstanding.’

‘A misunderstanding! How could something like that happen by mistake? It was my life!’

‘Lele!’ Dad said, looking around the kitchen nervously. ‘Keep your voice down.’

I watched the Mantis closely. She really did look relieved to see me. Either she was a brilliant actress or I had, in fact, got it wrong. ‘It really wasn’t you?’

‘Of course not! I know we had our problems, but I would never do something like that. Send you out . . .’ She shuddered.

I slumped down into a chair opposite her.