Chapter Eleven
Deeta
The day passes quickly, so fast in fact that I have no time for my thoughts. Instead I’m caught up in some strange rhythm that makes me unaware of time and work. Although we have been told to strip the place, in reality there is little that could be termed moveable goods. Sure there is plenty that we could reuse, but no way of transporting them all the way to Marshall territory. I meet Ralph for the first time today in the stairwell; Jan and I are taking a load down to the ground floor, when I hear fast footsteps behind us.
“Hello, ladies; need a hand?” he asks, juggling the bags and boxes he’s carrying until he has room to take a back breakingly heavy suitcase from my unresisting hand. I notice with some asperity as we move on that, although the weight of that bag had hampered my progress greatly, it doesn’t seem to impede Ralph at all.
“Only one?” asks Jan breathlessly. “I could do with six or seven extra hands!”
“Where have you been, Ralph?” I ask, shifting a box from one arm to the other.
“I went up to help Mr. and Mrs. Green; Jamie had to go with Tom so he asked me to keep an eye on them. Then I spent more time than I care to think about, knocking every scrap of wood I could lay my hands on into carts to carry what movable goods we possess to the Marshall compound.”
“Will there be enough room for everything?”
“Probably not half as many as we could use, but enough to make do. The biggest problem will be provisions, not just for ourselves, but also for the animals.”
Something in his voice tells me that he doesn’t think that to be our biggest problem at all. We reach the ground floor and I’m startled to see through the iron slats across the windows that it’s dark outside.
“What time is it?” I wonder aloud in surprise.
“Long past dinner time, at least that’s what my stomach is telling me. It might not be reliable though, as I didn’t have lunch.”
“None of us did you big ox!” laughs Jan, giving Ralph a playful shove.
I look around us. Everywhere there are parcels, boxes, and crates. Some of the larger items have been packed into the waiting carts already, but I know that we will have to carry much of the smaller stuff.
“We should be finished soon I think,” Ralph says, placing our things neatly into a nearby cart.
“What do you think we’ll do about dinner, Deet?” asks Jan wearily. She sits on top of a suitcase and twists a curl around her finger.
“I did quite a bit of cooking yesterday; we should have plenty to share round.”
“How far round?” asks Ralph anxiously.
“I suppose there might be a few scraps left over for you,” Jan responds.
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Our apartments seem strangely full when I think that, in just a little while, we will leave it. The battered sofa and arm chair are still in their proper places around the edge of the threadbare blue rug. The coffee table with the varnish flaking off is still stationed in the centre of the room.
Ralph has gone to tell my father and the other Elders of the tribe that Jan and I are preparing refreshment, and we expect them almost immediately. Apart from all I made yesterday, we cook everything that is left in our store room.
“I wonder what the Marshalls will be like; do you think they’ll welcome us, Deeta?” ask Jan as she prepares naan bread.
She has caught her hair up into a quick bun, and loose curls have escaped their confines, falling in delicate ringlets over her face and neck. I notice that she has a smudge of flour over one cheek.
“I hope so; Tom will have done all he can to make sure that we’ll be okay.”
Jan nods and places the bread on the hot plate above the fire.
“Do you think it will be alright?”
“Do I think what will be alright?”
Jan pushes a tendril of hair back from her face.
“All of us walking through the City like some sort of mass exodus. It couldn’t really be construed as safe, could it?”
I too have been thinking of the trek we must make, and as Jan says it isn’t safe. In fact I can’t think of anything more unsafe. There are plenty of tribes out there to attack us, and plenty of reason for them to do precisely that considering all the provisions we’ll be carrying.
“I think we have as good a chance as any.” The glib words roll off my tongue with more conviction than I feel, and somehow I manage to keep my voice steady.
“Are you scared?” Jan’s voice is very soft.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
Pleased to find ourselves in such accord we laugh, and it is at that moment that our father walks into the room. He’s followed by Uncle Jep, the children, and several others. Dad looks tired and pale, but as he sees us he smiles, the lines on his face relaxing.
“Are we finished, Dad?” asks Jan, lifting a puffed out pillow of naam bread from the hot plate.
“We’ve packed all we can take, if that answers your question,” our father answers, gratefully sinking into a chair.
“How long do you think everyone will be?”
“Ten minutes, not more. I told them we started eating in ten minutes with or without them, so I’m pretty sure they’ll be here on time.”
“That’s getting to be an often used phrase.”
Jan and I continue piling plates with food, and as people arrive they help. Half an hour later we are still cooking, there is a friendly murmur of voices, and people eat at a steady pace. Ralph has supplied us with drinks and plates of food, and is leaning against the work surface of the island that we are working on in a comfortable and friendly manner.
“Alright, Ralph, hello girls?” Jamie’s large frame looms up before us. “How did things go?”
“Not bad, we’re ready to leave this second if we need to. What about you?” There is a touch of anxiety in Ralph’s voice.
“Not too bad; they had us over a barrel and they knew it, but they seem friendly enough.”
Despite his words I know they are reassurances for mine and Jan’s benefit, between Ralph and Jamie there passes a look that means something else entirely. I find myself scanning the room for Tom, and at last see his dark head bent towards Professor Jepsjon. Even from this distance I can see the earnestness of their discussion.
“Hiya, Ralph. Hello girls.”
Nella, resplendent in a black jumpsuit that she has the cheek to call her uniform, joins us with a drink in one hand and a spring roll in the other. At her friendly salutation, the first I think that he has ever received from Nell, I notice a crimson flush begin to creep up Ralph’s neck. He manages to nonchalantly greet her in reply, but that crimson wave refuses to be quelled.
“Ralph, could you do me a favour and take these rolls to…”
Before I have even finished my sentence, Ralph has taken the plate and vanished. Jamie’s eyes meet mine for a brief second in understanding.
“Everyone, can I have your attention?” Mr. Clark is standing on a chair and, as his voice is particularly carrying, the hum of conversation ends almost instantly. “Thank you. Now you all know that we sent Tom, Jamie, and Nella to ask for shelter with the Marshall tribe. They have extended an invitation to us to join with them, and have sent members of their guard to help protect us on the journey there. So now, if everyone has finished, it’s time to leave. You have ten minutes to gather yourselves together on the ground floor. No matter what, in ten minutes we leave.”
As people begin to file from the room my father calls to me and Jan.
“Leave everything as it is girls. You did a marvellous job, but now you need to get your coats and things and go down stairs.”
“Janny, can you get my coat and bag while I collect the food to take with us?” Jan nods and dashes off towards the bedroom while I gather the food together. By the time she is back I have two bags ready for us to take.
It’s odd leaving the place that my sisters and I were born in, strange to think we will never enter this place
again. Mostly it feels surreal, as though any second I might just wake up to find that this has all been a dream, that we don’t need to leave, that Dec and Keya are both here with us, and that Tom and I are still friends.
As we enter the ground floor I feel a familiar tightness in my stomach, the faintly nauseous feeling of fear that so often assails me now.
“Hello, Deeta.”
Tom’s quiet voice sounds close to me. I turn to find him standing, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, right beside me. The tightness in my stomach loosens momentarily only to take a stronger hold, and I find my breathing hitches unevenly.
In the darkness, with only a faint light shining on his jet black hair, Tom appears to me in a different light.
“Hi, Tom.”
My voice comes out an octave higher than it ought, and I lose the ability for rational thought. Biting my lip, I turn away from Tom’s frown.
“Are you scared, Deeta?”
His voice is concerned and he leans forward, his hand lifted. For some reason that I can’t possibly fathom, I take a hurried step backwards and away from him.
“No!”
The word comes out hysterical and panicked, and Tom’s hand drops back to his side. There is a long pause as Tom straightens. I see a kind of cold fury has settled over his features. We continue to face each other as Jamie, Nella, Ralph, and Jan come to stand with us. Tom, becoming aware of them, finally breaks the awkward silence that has fallen over us.
“I thought you should have this.” He holds a gun out towards me. I’m used to doing what Tom tells me to, so I take it from him out of habit. The weight is cold and unfamiliar in my hand. Tom’s eyes appraise me quickly.
“You can use one?” he asks. “I know you had lessons.”
“Well I can scare the living heck out of whoever I point it at.”
“She’s a good shot, Tom, Janny’s good too,” interrupts Nella.
“You have to say that seeing as though it was you who taught us,” teases Jan.
Tom pulls out another gun, and hands it to her. She takes it from him in an expert hand, and tucks it nonchalantly into the waist band of her trousers, pulling her coat down over the top of it. Tom smiles in approval and relief, but frowns again as he sees that I am still holding the firearm warily out in front of me. Belatedly I too tuck the gun out of sight, checking and then double checking that the safety catch is on.
When the sign comes for us all to move out and onto the street, our little group moves together. Partly I think it’s from habit, but also because Tom has somehow arranged it that way. I hold my breath, a thrill of excitement coursing through my veins.
Finally; this is it!
We emerge out into the night, and for the first time I see the tall imposing shapes of our neighbouring buildings towering over me. They’re clothed in mantles of ivy, and in the silence I hear the rustle of the leaves in the wind.
All my life I have imagined this moment, stepping into the outside world. Now that I’m finally here I find it so different from all my imaginings. For a moment I am completely awe struck and stop, looking around in fascination.
The City is so altered down here, so much bigger than I’m used to seeing it from the rooftop. I feel tiny, lost, and completely insignificant. It’s so wide open. I’m used to being closed in behind confining walls of brick and concrete. Panic wells up within me, along with the feeling that I’m horribly exposed.
I feel oddly nervous, as though the City is some strange alien environment. It’s scarier than I thought it would be. There’s too much space, it’s too big, and I feel myself break out into a cold sweat.
Somehow I’d always thought that it would be like stepping into a novel. I’d dreamt I would enter the dark and dangerous night, watching for the shadowy movements of my adversaries. If I was particularly fortunate maybe I would be rescued by a handsome stranger who would then… well, you get the picture.
Instead I find it threatening. On the outside it seems so peaceful and beautiful. Then again, bathed in moonlight pretty much everything looks more romantic, doesn’t it?
Yet I know the truth, I know how dangerous it is out here. This City eats people alive. It lulls them into a false sense of safety, looking so harmless and broken. I know that in an instant that unthreatening exterior can change into something much more sinister.
The broken and empty buildings, some half torn down and surrounded by rubble, with their gaping windows and broken glass, are softened by the pale light and clinging foliage. In the sky I see the stars shining brightly like so many diamonds glittering on a velvet cloth.
I shiver slightly, and try to pull myself together, turning back to rejoin the crowd. An idea strikes me and I pause, wondering if my father knows where Jan and I are.
Perhaps I should have made sure he knew that we were with Tom and safely out of the compound?
Realising that there is little I can do about it now, I fall into step, and make my way with everyone else through the dark streets. Mostly the night is silent, but every now and then sounds, strange and unnerving, travel the night air.
It is during a period of long silence that a sudden explosion rents the air. It isn’t very close to us, but it startles me and I trip. I brace myself for an impact that never comes, and look up to thank the person who has steadied me.
“Thanks, I almost came a cropper there, didn’t I?”
“You almost did,” he answers, pulling me upright. He removes his arm from my waist, but still holds my hand lightly.
It’s only as it registers that his voice is unknown to me that I remember Mr. Clark saying something about the Marshall guard sending some of their men to help us.
“Yes, I think you’ve made the connection now,” he laughs. “That was too friendly a thank you; who did you think I was?”
“I don’t… didn’t know. I just thought…” My voice dries up.
“You just thought I must be someone you knew; didn’t they tell you some of us had come along?”
“I forgot.”
“I’m not complaining, love. I liked my end of the deal; I don’t generally get to hug pretty girls by moonlight. The name’s Robin.”
“Nice to meet you, Robin,” I murmur, slightly abashed by his manner of conversation.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What’s your name, love?”
“Deeta?” Tom’s voice is imperative, and I blush guiltily.
“Deeta? That’s pretty; it suits you.”
I suppose I should be flattered. Yet the truth is that, apart from the moonlight, it’s dark so he couldn’t possibly tell if I’m pretty or not. Also I’m unused to his sort of friendliness, and it’s making me uncomfortable. And lastly, like the straw that broke the camel’s back, Tom’s disapproving presence is making me feel like I’ve been engaging in an illicit activity. I kind of wish Robin would go taser himself.
“Thanks for looking after her, Robin.” Tom’s voice conveys anything but gratitude as he takes hold of my arm.
“My pleasure, mate, she’s not the sort of thing I’d like to lose,” answers Robin cheerfully.
Tom’s hand tightens so that I gasp his name. Looking down at me, he drops his hold to my hand and pulls me after him.
“We have to catch up with the others.”
I struggle to keep up as Tom weaves his way speedily through the crowd, towing me in his wake. Suddenly his pace slows to a crawl, and he drops my hand.
“What happened, Deeta?”
An impetuous torrent of explanation that I have held, with great difficulty, pent up until now, tumbles from my lips.
“It was the explosion, it made me trip and—”
“I don’t mean that, why did you stop?”
“Oh.” I blink up at him stupidly. “I suddenly wondered if Dad knew we were with you. I thought maybe he was worried.”
“I told him you and Jan were coming with Uncle Jep and me, I should have said.”
An
d I should have known that, of course, Tom would have arranged it all first. We walk in silence, a little faster now, until we reach the others.
“Did you find her, Uncle Tom?” Tarri’s sleepy voice floats down from the celestial place above Ralph’s head as he carries her on his shoulders.
“Yes.”
“Good; Aunty Janny says she has the food.”
The trek is a timeless affair, leaving me unsure of just how long we’ve been walking. At first we had walked through streets lined with buildings, but now the buildings have thinned out. Piles of rubble, all that is left of skyscrapers, hide what’s left of the streets. The going is much rougher, but not impossible.
I hear a low whistle, soft but carrying, and turn apprehensively to Tom. He nods toward Nella.
“You go left and circle round.”
Nella melts into the darkness as Tom takes my hand,and presses it to where the gun he gave me nestles against the small of my back.
“Remember that’s there, and don’t be afraid to use it.”
He moves into the darkness, becoming invisible against the rubble so quickly that I’m not sure which way he goes.
The tightness in my stomach that never really left is back again in full force. I wait, trembling in the darkness, listening for another low whistle or the sound of approach. I hear nothing, and the silence stretches on undisturbed by anything but the sound of the tribes’ progress through the night.
A faint breeze, cool but refreshing, snakes its fingers through my hair, blowing curls into my eyes. With one hand I take a hold on the gun and pull it from my waistband, and with the other I tuck my curls back behind my ear.
A shape surges forth from the darkness and I jerk the gun up and point it, with a steadiness that surprises me, towards it. As it nears and separates I see that it’s Nella and Tom.