The Fearless (8 page)

‘Where is this knife?’ Captain Denning asks, frowning.

‘I got rid of it, sir,’ Sol says.

Hang on
, I think.
You and Rob had a gun. Why didn’t you just point that at him?

It doesn’t add up. Even if the boy has some sort of death wish, a knife is no match for a gun, especially not a Browning, and
especially
not at close range.

No one else seems to notice the hole in Sol’s story, though. They’re gazing at him in awe.

‘Are you able to continue with your assessment?’ Captain Denning asks.

Sol nods.

‘Very well. Patroller Cary, if the boy is violent, I want someone to stand guard at the cells. We can’t spare any of the Patrol proper, but one of the older members of the Junior Patrol would do. Go to the school and tell Adam Hopkins he’s excused from his lessons. Make sure he has a gun.’

I see anxiety flicker across Shelley’s face as Patroller Cary heads for the door. Adam is her younger brother, and has eighteen months left in the Junior Patrol.

Patroller Cary salutes and leaves.

‘We will now conclude your assessment,’ Captain Denning says. ‘Marissa Yuen, you are stranded on the mainland with only a bottle of water, some rope and a striking flint. Please take me through the steps you would take to ensure your survival.’

As Marissa tells him, I zone out, thinking about the boy again, and the way he mouthed
help me
as he was led away. I don’t know why, but when he said he was here to try and get medicine for his friend’s kid, I believed him. Bringing Jori up practically single-handed has given me a sixth sense for lies – which is why Sol’s story about the knife has me wondering – and anyway, why go to all that effort, swimming from the mainland (a superhuman feat in itself, especially at this time of year, when the sea is close to freezing), and try to break into a community you knew was going to be hostile, if you weren’t truly desperate?

I wonder where he’s from. Has he come all the way from Scotland? I’ve heard tales of a few other communities like ours on the mainland – second-hand, from people on the island who’ve been told about them by the barterers – but we’ve never come into contact with them. For all I know the stories could be just that – stories. Perhaps it’s just him, battling for survival, alone.

I realize Marissa has finished speaking and force myself to pay attention. Andrej’s up next, then Shelley, then Rob. The Patrollers listen as they answer Captain Denning’s questions, their faces impassive, making pencil notes which will be erased later so the paper – a rare and precious resource these days – can be re-used.

Captain Denning sits back. ‘We will discuss your responses this afternoon, and the names of those of you who have been successful will be announced before the Patrol Graduation Ceremony tomorrow morning.’

Everyone groans, although we all knew we wouldn’t find out straight away. The Patrol likes to drag this part out as long as possible.

The Meeting Hall bell rings, signalling lunchtime, and Captain Denning dismisses us.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask Sol as we go down the Meeting Hall steps.

‘Oh, so you care now?’ he says.

I feel a little flash of anger, mixed with guilt. ‘Of course I do. You should get that bruise looked at – it’s nasty.’

‘I’ll be fine. He came off worse.’

‘You beat him up?’

‘What was I supposed to do?’ Sol sounds angry again. ‘The guy had a
knife
. Anyway, he was trespassing.’

I don’t answer this time. The way he’s looking at me unnerves me. ‘Forget it,’ I say, and catch up with Marissa. When Sol’s in this sort of mood, there’s no speaking to him. Sometimes he reminds me so much of his mum, it scares me.

As soon as we get to the Refectory, we’re mobbed by a crowd of kids from the school, Jori among them, wanting to know about the boy. In a tiny place like Hope, news travels and grows as fast as a flame up a lamp-wick. Soon, the boy’s not just a boy but a Fearless, and Sol is the one who single-handedly defended the rest of the Islanders from him with his quick thinking and bravery. ‘I helped bring him down as well!’ Rob keeps saying, but no one’s really listening to him.

When I’ve collected my lunch – more hard bread and a thin, salty broth made from the last of the previous year’s supplies of dried fish and kelp – I find a quieter spot at the edge of the Refectory where I can eat in peace. My thoughts keep returning to the boy. Maybe it’s because he’s the first outsider I’ve seen since I came here, but he fascinates me.

I look around. All the Islanders are here except for the Patrollers on watch duty and Sol’s dad, who keeps himself to himself, eating meals in his office at the Meeting Hall. Almost everyone is still gathered round Rob and Sol. ‘You know, I’m sure I’m missing some buttons and thread,’ mutters Sheena Drake, Hope’s seamstress, her voice as sharp as her pointed chin and blade-like cheekbones. ‘He could have been hiding out in the Shudders for weeks – if that building hadn’t collapsed we’d never have known!’

As the conversation swells to an indignant crescendo, I gulp down the rest of my broth and drop my last piece of bread into my pocket. Because it’s assessment day, I don’t have any duties this afternoon – a rare few hours of freedom. I slip out of the Refectory and head over to the cells, trying to make it look as if I’m actually just returning to the apartments – which, if anyone challenges me, is exactly what I’ll do.

Adam is standing outside the cells with a gun tucked into his belt. He’s only wearing a thin jacket, and has his arms wrapped around himself, shivering. When he sees me, he looks relieved. ‘Cass! Are you busy?’

‘Why?’ I say.

‘Can you watch the cells for a few minutes while I go back to my apartment and get my coat?’

‘Sure,’ I say, suddenly grateful it’s so cold.

‘Thanks!’ He hands me the gun, and runs off in the direction of the apartments.

The boy is in one of the middle cells, hunched over with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up. The gate is fastened with a rusty padlock. ‘Hey,’ I hiss, tucking the gun into my belt.

The boy jumps, sucking in his breath sharply as he looks up at me, as if something’s hurting him. With a jolt, I see his face is bloody, one side of his mouth swollen. What did Sol and Rob
do
?

I take the piece of bread from my pocket and hold it through the bars. ‘This is for you. Sorry there isn’t more.’

The boy gazes at me for a moment. Then he looks away again. He doesn’t take the bread.

‘Please,’ I say. ‘You need to eat. I don’t have any water on me right now, but I can bring you some.’

‘Who sent you?’ His voice sounds muffled because of his injured mouth.

‘No one,’ I say. ‘I came by myself.’

‘Why?’ He looks up at me again, his gaze filled with something that looks a lot like anger.

‘I . . . wanted to check you were OK,’ I say, only realizing as I speak the words that this is, in fact, the truth. ‘Are you?’

The boy’s hard gaze softens a little. ‘I’ve felt better,’ he says. His accent is almost exotic after hearing the same voices around me for so many years.

I indicate his face. ‘Does it hurt? I’ve got some salve back at my—’

He shakes his head. ‘I’ll survive. Thanks, though.’ The undamaged side of his mouth lifts in a smile. I smile back uncertainly, trying to imagine him launching himself at Sol with a knife. ‘I’m Cass, by the way,’ I say. ‘Cass Hollencroft.’

‘Myo McRae. D’you know what they’re gonna do to me?’

I shake my head.

‘Your pal thinks I’m Fearless, you know.’ Myo winces again as he tries to shift his position.

‘Are you?’ I say.

He snorts. ‘What do you think?’

‘Considering you didn’t leap at the bars and bite my hand off when I tried to give you that bread, and that you can speak normally and you don’t have, um, silver eyes, I’m pretty certain you’re not.’

I hear the Meeting Hall bell start to ring, signalling the end of lunch. ‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘If anyone sees me talking to you, I’ll be in big trouble. But take the bread, OK? I’ll try to bring you some water later.’

The boy nods. Then, just as I’m turning to go he says, ‘Cass?’

I turn back.

‘Can you do me a favour?’

I glance round to check if Adam’s coming back. There’s no sign of him. ‘What? If you want me to talk to the Patrol about letting you go, I’m sorry, but—’

Myo shakes his head. ‘I know you can’t do that. It’s just . . . I had a bag with me. There are some clothes in it. Could you get it for me? I need my jacket – it’s freezing.’

I frown. Although the Shudders is technically off-limits, as kids, Sol and I and the others used to sneak in all the time. We’d scavenge for bits of wire or other stuff we could barter at the Exchange, or pretend to be Fearless, hunting each other down through the ruins. And if the Patrol discovered one of our ways in and blocked it off, we’d just find another.

But that was before I joined the Junior Patrol. Before Mum drowned herself, and Jori became my responsibility.

Myo looks pleadingly at me. ‘I’m so cold.’

I still don’t answer. Going into the Shudders would be crazy, but I can’t give him my coat – someone would recognize it. And I can’t exactly ask Sol if I can borrow something of his.

‘Where were you?’ I ask hesitantly.

‘It looked like a cinema. I left the bag under an old board on the stage when I went out to see if anyone was around. That was when the building next to it collapsed and I got stuck.’

I know the old cinema well; it used to be one of our favourite haunts. ‘OK, I’ll try. But I mean
try
. I’m not promising anything.’

‘Thank you.’

As I turn away from the cell, I wonder what I’ve just got myself into.

I’m just in time. Adam’s coming back, bundled up in a coat, and out of breath. ‘Sorry! I sneaked into the Refectory to grab some food.’ He holds up a piece of bread and grins.

I shake my head. ‘I hope Captain Denning didn’t see you.’

‘Nah.’ He bites into the bread.

I hand him the gun and hurry back to the apartments, where I tidy up, not because it’s messy but to keep warm. Jori is back at school, so I have only my clamouring thoughts for company as I try to figure out how on earth I’m going to get into the Shudders to retrieve Myo’s bag. If it was summer, I could wait until early morning, but this time of year, the sun doesn’t rise until after the Meeting Hall bell rings to wake everyone up. If I leave it until then, there’ll be too many people around, and he’ll probably freeze overnight. But I have the same problem in the evening; it’s dark before the evening meal, and if I don’t turn up for that, someone might notice. I’ll have to go in a few hours, after everyone’s gone back to their apartments for the night.

You do realize what a stupid idea this is, don’t you?
I tell myself as I sweep non-existent dust across the bedroom floor.
If anyone – ANYONE – realizes what you’re up to, you’ll get kicked out of the Patrol and put in the cells yourself. Maybe even kicked off the island. And going into the Shudders at night? Really?

A couple of hours later, Jori comes back, and I help him with his homework – making a simple fishing net out of bits of nylon rope scavenged from the high-tide line on Hope’s beach. Did we have homework when I was seven? I can’t remember; my life before the Invasion feels like a distant dream. Sometimes, I feel sorry for Jori, knowing he’ll never get to be a kid in the way I did, living a truly carefree life.

‘Are you OK?’ Marissa says as she and I leave the Refectory after the evening meal, where all the talk has been about Myo again (although I’m the only one who knows he’s called that, of course). The Patrol’s search of the Shudders revealed nothing – they didn’t even find Myo’s bag, so it must be well hidden – and the news he was alone has been greeted with a mixture of relief and bewilderment. ‘You seem pretty preoccupied.’

‘I was just thinking about today,’ I say, adding hastily, ‘about the assessment, I mean.’

Sol passes us. He glances at me, but doesn’t say anything. You can almost feel the awkwardness between us. ‘Did you guys fall out or something?’ Marissa asks, watching him walk off with Rob.

I shake my head. I really don’t feel like trying to explain right now, or have her ask me for the millionth time
why
I don’t want to get together with Sol when we’d be perfect for each other.

Jori runs up to us. ‘Cass! Can I go to Sam’s? Pleeeease?’

‘Yeah, go on,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to go to the Exchange, anyway. Be back by eight, OK?’

He runs off, grinning. Marissa and I collect our ration tokens from our apartments and head over to the Exchange. It’s where all Hope’s supplies are stored – everything we make, find, or trade with the barterers. Every year, each Islander over the age of fifteen receives four flat, round tokens carved from driftwood and threaded onto a piece of rope or leather. One’s for food, one’s for fuel, one’s for clothing and shoes and one’s for everything else. Every time you go to the Exchange, the tokens have notches cut in them in exchange for whatever it is you need. Everyone has a maximum number of notches per year, and the more valuable a good is, the more notches you get, so you have to be careful to make the tokens last.

As we go inside, it occurs to me that I don’t have enough lamp fuel for my expedition into the Shudders. Over the years, I’ve become an expert at calculating how much Jori and I need, and I wasn’t going to get any more until next week, but I can’t look for Myo’s bag without a lamp. The Patroller at the storeroom door raises an eyebrow when I ask for a bottle of fuel – after food and shoes, it’s the most precious commodity on the island – but notches my token without comment.

Back at my apartment, I fill our spare lantern with oil, change the light blue jumper I’m wearing for a black one, and dig my summer shoes, a pair of faded black canvas plimsolls, out of the cupboard in the bedroom. It’s too cold for them, but I’ll be much lighter on my feet. I stuff my flint and steel and a couple of the strips of dried seaweed we use as firelighters into my trouser pockets, and put the shoes by the door.