Deadlands (27 page)

I took her hand. It felt way too hot. ‘Hester?’

‘I am glad you are home, Lele,’ she said. ‘I have been worried.’

‘Where’s everyone?’

‘Out looking for you,’ she said, attempting to smile. ‘We do care about you, Lele. I know what you think of us.’ She sighed. ‘Ash – I have never seen him in such a state. When you didn’t return, he went out searching, even though the enclave is overrun with guards.’ She coughed a horrible wracking cough. ‘Please, you must forgive them.’

‘That doesn’t matter now,’ I said and quickly began to fill her in on what had happened to Thabo.

‘I have to go after him, Hester,’ I finished. ‘He’s my friend.’

‘It is not safe for you to go alone, Lele.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I don’t have a choice.’

She leaned over and coughed again, the sound rocketing up from her very core.

‘Can I get you anything, Hester?’ I asked.

She shook her head. ‘It is too late for me, Lele,’ she said. ‘But it is not too late for you. Your friend – if he has gone in to the Deadlands, then there is nothing you can do. You must not risk it.’

‘I need to try.’

She struggled to sit up, and pointed towards the corner of the room where Ginger stored his massive collection of DVDs. ‘There is a small carved wooden box underneath the television. Can you bring it to me?’

I nodded and did as she asked.

‘Open it,’ she said.

Inside there were loads of palm-sized metal square and star shapes. Thin as a blade, each one had a hole in its centre and razor-sharp spiked edges.

‘You know what these are?’ Hester asked.

‘No.’

‘They are called hira shuriken. Or, as Ginger would probably call them, ninja throwing stars.’

I picked one of them up and weighed it in my hand. It was heavier than it looked. I ran my thumb carefully over its edges.

‘These are weapons?’ I said, although it was obvious that nothing this sharp could be anything else.

‘Yes, Lele. But it is unlikely that you will be able to destroy an attacker with one of these. Traditionally, they were used to distract the enemy, before going in for the kill.’ She coughed again.

‘Hester –’

‘I haven’t finished,’ she said. ‘I want you to take these with you.’ She smiled at me. ‘I used ones like these during the last battle, when I found Ash. Take them for luck. They may just save your life. They helped save mine.’

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Take care,’ she replied, her voice now cracking with exhaustion. ‘And, please, forgive them.’

I chucked the Resurrectionist robe on the ground, grabbed my backpack and shoved the throwing stars into it, careful not to cut myself.

Hester’s breathing had slowed as if she’d fallen into a deep sleep, but I gave her a hug anyway, her body feeling insubstantial under her clothes, just like Gran’s in her last hours.

Wiping away the tears that rolled down my cheeks, I headed towards the tunnel that led into the Deadlands.

I didn’t look back, and I didn’t say goodbye, and I regret that now.

It would be the last time we’d ever speak.

Even with the full moon bathing the Deadlands in a bluish light, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t seriously spooked. My pulse was jackhammering and my feet sounded way too loud as I crunched over the dried leaves and fynbos, but I knew I couldn’t afford to slow down.

I came across a large group of Rotters crowded together around a tree, their heads bowed together, almost touching, as if they were leaning up against each other. Their low doleful moaning sounded way eerier than I was used to, and from then on every gnarled tree trunk, every twisted branch and every elongated shadow seemed to morph into the figure of a Hatchling or Guardian. I had to fight to stop my imagination getting the better of me.

A few hundred yards from the bone mountain I slowed my pace, now doing my best to move through the undergrowth with as little noise as possible. I knew that this was where the Guardians took the bodies of the dead to reanimate them, but I had no way of knowing how many people had been relocated or if I would be forced to fight the thing that Thabo might have become. I pulled the shuriken out of my bag and shoved as many as I could into my pockets, deciding at the last minute to keep one at hand. Holding it made me feel calmer, more confident. Even if I was gripping it so tightly that it almost sliced through the skin of my palm.

I crept closer. The edges of the mountain glowed in the moonlight, the stripped bones gleaming whitely in contrast to the deep shadow of the bushes that surrounded them. I stood as still as I could, listening for any signs of life – any indication that there were Hatchlings around – but all I could hear was the ragged sound of my own breath, the guttural call of a plover and the low distant moans of the Rotters.

Then, a few metres away from me the undergrowth began to rustle. I readied myself to chuck the throwing star, but it was only a porcupine and it quickly melted back into the myrtle trees behind it.

There was no sign of the wagon.

I had to decide what to do next, but that decision was taken out of my hands.

A branch broke behind me, and this time I was sure that whatever had made the sound was a lot larger than a porcupine.

I weighed the throwing star in my hand, and prepared myself to fight as a shadowy silhouette emerged from behind a plumbago bush.

‘Lele!’ the whisper cut through the night, and I only managed to stop myself from throwing the star at the last moment. There was no mistaking who it was.

‘Ash!’

He jogged over to where I was standing and threw his arms around me. Without hesitating I hugged him back. Right then I decided that whatever the Mall Rats had done to me was in the past. We’d betrayed each other – me by putting them in danger in the mall, the Mall Rats by fixing my Lottery win – and there were more important things to consider right then. Thabo’s life, for one.

Ash was also out of breath, and when he drew back, his sweaty hair hung damply over his eyes. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘Yeah, but, Ash . . . Thabo isn’t. The Resurrectionists, they’ve –’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Hester told me.’

‘I have to find him,’ I said. ‘I have to go after him.’

I waited for him to argue, but he didn’t. Instead he just nodded.

‘Where are Saint and Ginger?’ I asked.

‘They’ve gone to the west gate,’ he said. ‘We weren’t sure where you were headed.’

‘And Hester? Is she . . .?’

He shook his head. ‘No. But it won’t be long.’

In the moonlit darkness I could see that his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. ‘Ash, you must go back and be with her.’

‘No, Lele,’ he said, wiping a hand furiously over his eyes. ‘Hester would want me to be with you.’

He spoke with finality, and I could tell that it was no use arguing with him.

‘Let’s follow the wagon tracks,’ he said. ‘See if we can cut them off.’

I nodded. ‘It’s our only option. It doesn’t look like the wagon stopped here, after all.’

But I’d spoken too soon.

We’d barely passed the bone mountain when we heard the crack of splintering branches and the sinister whisper of grass brushing against fabric.

The first Hatchling came at us with the same terrifying speed as the ones Ash and Saint had fought when I’d first met them. With all of my senses heightened by the adrenalin pulsing through my system, the moonlight seemed to light up the scene as bright as day, and I recognised her immediately. Even with her eyes rolled back in her head; even with the snarl that cut across her face. It was the short-haired woman who had stood next to Thabo in the tent.

I took aim and threw the star I had been clutching in my hand. It hit its target as I knew it would, and the woman stopped dead and twisted her head, giving Ash enough time to lash out with his panga.

But she wasn’t alone.

They rushed towards us, only momentarily held back by the thicket of thorn trees. I dug in my pockets, pulling out the other shuriken and throwing one at the closest Hatchling – this one a woman wearing the remnants of a sari – but moments later the rest of them were upon us.

We moved so effortlessly it was if Ash and I were part of the same person. I would throw one of the shuriken, distract the Hatchling, and Ash would step forward, spin around and slice its head from its body. Apart from the crunch of their running feet, the Hatchlings made no sound, and all I could hear was the steady pulse of my heart, the
shwick
of Ash’s panga, and the sound of bodies crashing to the ground, one after the other. I don’t know how many there were that night, but despite their numbers it seemed as if it was over in seconds.

After we felled the last attacker, both of us stood absolutely immobile for the next couple of minutes. Finally, I sensed Ash relaxing.

‘I think that’s all of them,’ he finally said in a low voice. He pulled a torch out of the bag slung over his shoulder and swept the beam around the undergrowth. The silver spheres of a mongoose’s eyes flashed in the beam, but otherwise the light hit dead shadow.

Stepping towards one of the fallen bodies, he picked up one of the shuriken. It glinted in the moonlight. ‘Did Hester give you these?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Did she teach you how to use them?’

I shook my head.

‘I’ve never fought that many before,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.’

Normally I would have felt thrilled to hear him say something like this to me, but there was something else on my mind right then. Something awful.

They’d come at us so fast that I hadn’t been able to see all of them clearly.

And I had to be sure.

Ash helped me do it. It was grisly work, checking each one for those familiar dreadlocks. But he wasn’t there. I remember hoping that he might have escaped after all, perhaps climbed out of the wagon as I had done, that he was somewhere out in the Deadlands, hiding from the Guardians.

‘He’s not here,’ I said, stating the obvious and unable to stop the sob of relief that followed.

Ash slotted the panga back into its holder. ‘Then let’s find him,’ he said.

In the end we almost walked straight into it. We were about half a kilometre from the mall and about to step onto the highway – the birds around us flitting from tree to tree and welcoming the dawn as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening – when we heard the creak of wood and the snort of horses behind the bushes parallel to where we were walking.

Ash put his finger to his lips, and both of us crept forward slowly. The wagon was rumbling along at a steady pace, but I still easily made out the shadowy shapes of two Guardians sitting side by side at the front of it.

We had no way of knowing if Thabo was actually in the back of the wagon, but I was determined to find out, whatever it took.

It was heading straight for the mall and we jogged after it, the sound of our footsteps muffled beneath the rumble of the wagon’s wheels and the jingle of the horses’ harnesses.

We hung back, watching as the horses clopped their way up the ramp to the parking area. Then, keeping as quiet as we could, we sprinted from car to car, using their fynbos-swathed bodies as cover. Creeping up the ramp, Ash pointed to the rusted shell of a Woolworth’s delivery truck, and we scuttled behind it, just as the wagon came to a stop.

I watched, fascinated, as the Guardians climbed down and unhitched the horses – one of them leading the animals around the side of the wagon and back down towards the highway. I held my breath as it came uncomfortably close to where we were hiding, the horses shying slightly as they no doubt sensed our presence. Thankfully the Guardian leading them didn’t falter, and within seconds they were out of sight.

Meanwhile the other Guardian had made its way to the back of the wagon, and was busy unlatching the high wooden tailgate.

‘You think he’s in there?’ I whispered to Ash.

‘Shhhh,’ Ash said, his eyes fixed on the Guardian. He had drawn his panga and I could sense that he was steeling himself for a fight.

As the tailgate dropped to the ground a figure emerged from the back of the wagon, shielding its eyes against the sun.

It was Thabo.

Instinctively, I moved towards him, but Ash grabbed my arm and held me back. ‘Just wait,’ he hissed in my ear.

I knew he was right, but it hurt just to watch as Thabo stumbled down onto the ground. Even from where we were hidden I could see that he’d been badly beaten: his face was caked in blood and he was favouring his right leg.

The Guardian motioned Thabo to follow him, but instead he lurched forward as if his legs couldn’t hold up his body – a move that I suspected was a feint. It was, and as soon as the Guardian took a step towards him, Thabo rushed at it. But what happened next took us all by surprise.

One minute Thabo was moving in for the kill, the next the Guardian simply held up a hand and stopped him dead in his tracks. Worse, Thabo then began backing up, his hands in the air. As he did so I saw the early morning sunlight flashing off something metal that was poking out of the sleeve of the Guardian’s robe, but it took me what seemed like forever to realise that it was holding a gun.

I didn’t even stop to consider why a Guardian would need a weapon. They were supposed to be all powerful, after all. I didn’t even hesitate. I took the last throwing star out of my pocket – the one Ash had retrieved – and threw it as I ran forward. The star hit its target, and the gun zinged out of the Guardian’s hand and skittered underneath the wagon.

Ash was right behind me, but even in his bloodied state Thabo didn’t need his help. As we approached, he lashed out a leg and slammed it into the Guardian’s stomach. It reeled backwards, arms cartwheeling, and fell to the ground, thumping its head against the back of the wagon.

Panga raised, Ash headed straight for it, but I didn’t stop to see what he was going to do. I was too busy throwing my arms around Thabo. I couldn’t believe that we’d actually found him. I needed to touch him, to get the fact that he was alive through to my brain.