Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1) (5 page)

She dressed quickly; there wasn’t any heating in this part of the building. In her top drawer she felt the black box she’d taken, still under the clothes where she’d hidden it the night before. Wondering what it was, she turned it over in her hands, examining it in the light from the window. It had a small grille on the front and some buttons, a clip on the back that would attach to a belt or something, and a rubber stick on the top. There was something very… scavvy about it, and if she took it down to the kitchen there would be awkward questions.
 

She twisted the knob. It made a faint click as it turned, but nothing else happened. After looking at it for a little while longer, she shrugged and put it down on the table, then headed for the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

The smell of breakfast steaming on the hob made her feel hungry. Gruel made from oats and wheat, cooked in watery milk. She gave the pot a good stir and ladled out a big dollop into a bowl, adding a spoonful of honey from a jar in the cupboard.

Her father looked up as she sat down at the table. ‘Sleep well?’ he asked.

Flick grunted, and started to eat.

‘Flick grunts like a pi-ig.’ Rosie chanted from the chair opposite.

‘Do not,’ Flick retorted, pausing her spoon on its way to her mouth.

‘Do too!’ Rosie poked her tongue out.

‘Enough, you two!’ their father bellowed. ‘Now be nice and eat properly.’

Flick looked up imploringly at Maggie, who had just arrived at the back door, and was taking her coat off.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Maggie said, ‘I’m not getting involved; I only work here.’

With a final tongue poking, calm returned and the two girls went back to eating.

Flick stood in the courtyard, pegging up washing on the line, while Maggie had her head buried in the chicken coop. Adam and Rosie had left for school, and Dad was somewhere inside the inn.

‘Maggs?’ Flick said, pulling a bed sheet from the basket.

There was a muffled thud from inside the coop.

‘Oww! You made me jump there!’ Maggie said, backing out from the coop, dragging a basket of eggs behind her. She stood up, brushing bits of straw from her clothing.

‘I’ve got some news,’ Flick said, pegging the sheet up.

One of the chickens chose that moment to make a bid for freedom. There was a flurry of feathers as it squeezed through a gap in the mesh fence and ran across the cobbles squawking wildly. Maggie gave chase and the chicken made a mad dash for the stables, swerving at the last minute before being recaptured, much to its disgust.

‘Prisoner twenty-seven, always trying to make a run for it,’ said Maggie, stroking the chicken. ‘Be a shame if she ever really got away, ‘cos she’s a good layer.’ She dropped the hen back into the coop and latched the door.

‘I had that dream again last night,’ said Flick, putting down the basket and motioning for Maggie to sit on the bench.

‘What, the one with Joe?’

‘Yeah. Sticks his tongue in my ear and it, like, goes right through my head and out the other ear.’

‘Oh gross!’

They sat on the bench in silence for a moment, watching the chickens pecking at their feed.
 

Eventually Flick spoke, ‘I wonder if it means anything?’

‘Don’t stick a tongue in your ear?’

‘Thing is about Joe…’ she paused, ‘I mean, I know he’s the mayor’s son and that, and I’m sure he’ll be rich and stuff one day, but… I don’t know,
something’s
not right.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Maggie said, ‘and it’s not just him, it’s the whole family. And what’s with that creepy house? Do you think it’s haunted?’

Flick shivered. Was it her imagination, or did it just get cold all of a sudden? ‘I might if I believed in ghosts,’ she said.

‘P’raps it’s something from the Dark Time? Yeah, that’ll be it. We should report him to the Kingsmen and get the reward!’

Flick snorted. ‘Not so loud, someone might hear; the street’s just the other side of the stables! I get the feeling that Mayor Griffin is not the kind of person who would take kindly to being reported, and we’d be the ones in trouble, especially with all those extra “estate workers” around.’

‘What did you find out about them?’ Maggie asked.

‘Only that they’re not proper farm hands or the usual kind of worker. Joe says they spend all their time running about and shouting.’

Maggie pondered this. ‘I wonder what they are?’

‘Those Kingsmen that were here last night…’ Flick said, ‘When I showed one of them my little workshop, he asked if I was supplying an army. I think he was joking, but you don’t suppose…?’

‘Mayor Griffin is starting an army? What would the mayor want with an army? That’s ridiculous!’

 
‘Keep your voice down,’ Flick hissed.

‘Sorry, but it is.’

Flick looked around. ‘That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about though.’

Maggie raised an eyebrow.

‘Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul, mind, and I really mean it. Swear, proper.’

Maggie looked at her warily. ‘You all right, Flick?’

‘Yeah. But you gotta swear. It’s important.’

‘Ok then.’ Maggie raised her right hand. ‘I swear I won’t tell a living soul what you are about to tell me.’

Flick nodded. She paused for a moment, thinking. ‘I found a boy.’

Maggie stared, open-mouthed. ‘You... What? Who? Is it Edward? Harry? Paul? Not Stanley surely?’

‘No, I
found
a boy. Literally. I think he might be a
Scav!
’

Maggie’s eyes lit up, a mixture of excitement and horror. ‘A Scav? Did he rape and murder you? Do tell…’

‘Of course he didn’t rape and murder me,
stupid
. Do you think I’d be here talking to you if he did?’

Maggie pouted. ‘So how do you know he’s a Scav then? Did you see his tattoo?’

‘No I didn’t see his tattoo,’ Flick replied indignantly, ‘I’m not like you, ripping the clothes off the first boy I meet.’

‘Now that’s not fair,’ complained Maggie, ‘We were married by then, as well you know.’

‘But Fred
was
still the first boy you met,’ said Flick, laughing.

‘Stop changing the subject,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m beginning to think you don’t like boys at all. Sixteen years old, and not even engaged. If you don’t hurry up it’ll be too late.’

‘Maybe I like things the way they are,’ Flick said, ‘Or perhaps I don’t relish the idea of Mayor Griffin as a father-in-law. That man scares me. Anyway, now who’s changing the subject?’

‘Okay, back to the Scav. Spill.’ Maggie looked at Flick expectantly.

‘It was out at the bottom of the ridge, near the white horse,’ Flick said. ‘He was all banged up. Had some sort of wrecked mechanical contraption, like he crashed it.’

‘What was he doing way out there?’ Maggie asked.

Flick shrugged. ‘He crashed. That’s all he said. There wasn’t time to push him as I had a few scrapes myself down the chalk pit, and I still had to get back before curfew.’

‘So that’s why you didn’t bring me any meat last night.’

Flick nodded. ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

‘No you’re not,’ Maggie teased. ‘Now tell me everything. Is he good looking? What’s his name? What did you do? Why didn’t you bring him home? How do you
know
he’s a Scav?’

‘Well, like I said, he was a bit banged up, but just bruises and sprains and stuff. I don’t think anything was broken.’

‘Yes but get to the important stuff; what was his name? And what’s he like? And where is he?’

Flick sighed and looked around conspiratorially. ‘Well, his name is Shea. And he’s a bit older than us: Seventeen or perhaps eighteen, and yes he’s a hunk.’

‘Oh Shea, Shea…’ said Maggie, fluttering her eyelids. ‘Definitely a Scav name.’

‘Shut up!’ said Flick, a little too angrily. ‘Nothing happened. Besides, he was barely conscious. I just set him up in one of the abandoned cottages, and had to rush back ‘cos of the curfew.’

‘So he’s still there?’

‘I guess so. He’s either still there, or he’s dead, or he’s scarpered. I’ll go back out there later and check. Take some food and stuff, just in case.’

‘Is he… you know, dangerous? He is a Scav after all.’

Flick paused. ‘We don’t know for sure he’s a Scav. But I don’t think he’s dangerous. I’ve got my knife, and my bow, just in case. Where I found him, he had this weird buggy thing. But it wasn’t anywhere near the road and there were no tracks.’ She paused, ‘You know, I quite forgot with finding Shea, but I was going to get Adam and Joe to help me bring the wreckage back. Sell it in town for scrap.’

Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘Good job you didn’t. If he really is a Scav and the Kingsmen heard about it, you could be locked up for sure, or worse, executed.’

‘Yeah, good job,’ said Flick, standing. ‘And you’re not to say a word.’

They heard a commotion out in the square. ‘What’s going on out there?’ Maggie asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Flick said, ‘let’s go and look.’ She opened the wicket gate and they peered out. Half a dozen Kingsmen on horseback were in the square, rifles clearly on display. Their leader, a woman with red hair, was talking to Captain Marley of the Watch, who appeared somewhat agitated, along with Sergeant Taylor. Other Watchmen were hurrying into the square. Flick spotted Stanley Wilder and waved him over.

‘What’s going on, Stanley?’ she asked.

‘There’s some big shot Scav on the loose,’ he said. ‘The Kingsmen think he might be in town. All the gates have been closed and we have to find him.’

Flick and Maggie stared at each other open mouthed.

ADAM AND ROSIE left for school at 8:30 by the big clock in the town. They each had a small knapsack containing their lunch of homemade bread and cheese, wrapped in greased paper. The street was quiet as they passed the town hall on their way to the school, but soon other children joined from the side streets. Rosie’s friends Alice and Gracie were the first to catch up, and started chattering excitedly.
 

‘I’ve never been on a school trip,’ Rosie announced, skipping along the kerb. ‘What do you think it’ll will be like? I bet it’s all old broken stuff, and they won’t even let us touch it.’

‘I think it’s guns and bombs and tanks like in the stories,’ said Alice, ‘I bet if we touched it, it would explode!’ She acted out the explosion, waving her arms about and dancing round and round.

‘Do you think it really still works?’ asked Gracie, ‘I mean, there’s no electric anymore, so surely it’s just dead stuff? Adam knows, he’s seen it. Haven’t you Adam? What’s it like?’

Adam snorted. ‘It’s just a museum, okay? Old stuff. Boring.’

‘Misery guts!’ Rosie called out.

‘Am not,’ grumped Adam, ‘The stuff they tell you is all made up. It’s just stories to scare the little kids. Nothing there ever works. I bet it’s never worked. The Dark Times are just a myth to make us do what they want.’

The girls stared open mouthed as Adam stomped off ahead and disappeared into the school playground. When the girls reached the gates of the school, they went in the opposite direction, ‘Bye Adam,’ they called, and Rosie added, ‘See you later.’ But Adam ignored them.
Stupid kids, never shut up
.

He walked up to a group of seniors that were standing around by themselves–Del, Ron and Colin. ‘Hey!’ He raised his hand and they all smacked hands in greeting. ‘Hey!’ they each grunted back.

Del, the biggest of the four boys poked Adam in the ribs and nodded towards one of the younger kids. ‘Bet he’s got better lunch than we do,’ he said.

‘Yeah, we should get it off him,’ Colin added. ‘As tribute.’

Another kid walked past them, making for the entrance. ‘Rah!’ Ron barked at her, waving his arms around. She yelped and ran off.

‘Come on, let’s show her who’s boss around here,’ said Del, and the three of them lurched off towards the unsuspecting girl.

Adam hung back. He liked the mucking about and causing trouble, but actually bullying the little kids was going too far.

Del looked back and call out, ‘Hey, Adam, you coming or what?’

Before Adam could answer the bell rang for assembly, and the whole school trooped towards the school hall. They lined up in ranks, juniors at the front, seniors at the back. Adam, Del, Ron and Colin, shuffled in at the back of the back.

Adam nudged his mates and they huddled around, ‘So I got this money off a first year…’ he began. It wasn’t actually true, but he had a reputation to maintain. He was well into his tale when he noticed something wasn’t quite right. ‘…and they didn’t stop running all the way back…’ He stopped, realising the entire room was quiet and his was the only voice talking. He blushed and stared at the floor, feeling very conspicuous.

‘Adam Carter! My office, immediately after Assembly!’ boomed a voice from the front of the room.

He looked up. Two masters stood on the stage. The tall thin man at the front, with a gaunt face beady eyes, hawk-like nose and an expression that looked like a boiling kettle with a cork rammed in the spout was the headmaster.

The other master was the deputy head, normal in comparison.

There were a few titters around the room. ‘And that goes for anyone else that wants to chatter,’ the headmaster said sternly.

Silence.

‘Better. And now the vicar will lead the school in prayers. Reverend?’

The headmaster stepped back and allowed the vicar to step forward. He was a tall, nervous looking man with round metal rimmed spectacles and a horseshoe of hair. One side of the horseshoe was cropped short, the other was long and draped over his shiny pate in a travesty of grooming. He wore a black cassock and white surplice. Adam hadn’t noticed him, lurking at the back of the stage, but he was always there, at the back of things, lurking.

‘By directorate of the King,’ he said, faltering slightly. He coughed and adjusted his spectacles, then started again.

‘By directorate of the King, we shall pray,’ stronger and more confidently this time. He paused, waiting for the children to bow their heads.

Adam tuned the vicar out. He thought the man was an idiot and a buffoon. He rummaged through his pockets and found some crumpled paper, which he pulled out and tore a small strip off. He nudged Ron, who was standing next to him, and scrunched the torn off strip into a small ball, which he flicked into the crowd. It hit the back of a girl’s head a few rows in front, and when she reached up to scratch her hair, the two boys giggled.