*
Selina woke slowly, the darkness in her dreamless mind matching that of the quiet black room. It was the monotonous sound of the ticking clock that began to draw her to consciousness.
She groaned inwardly.
Opening her eyes she looked about in the darkness. She couldn’t find the clock but could see through the thick black curtains that a deep red dawn had broken.
The binds about her arms and the additional ties around her ankles were hurting now, it felt as though they were bleeding - but when she looked down she could make out nothing but pale flesh.
Again she scoured the room for the clock. The metronomic ticking seemed to protract the silence. She craned her neck and saw its bottom-most rim, and could make out the time as being a quarter to six.
What seemed like an age passed in stillness. She listened to Priya’s prolonged breath and watched her dreaming eyelid’s twitch.
The light from outside grew stronger and lit the bars of the cell like electric filaments.
Selina could now clearly see Priya’s face, and she spent a long while looking at it. She was beautiful; not in a glamorous way: her lips were thin and her eyebrows sharp, but her face was soft and symmetrical. Her most enchanting quality was her naturally coiled hair that had remained vibrant and shimmering even after a shipwreck and two days of hiking. Even in the gloom it shone like a thousand golden halos.
Again Selina craned her neck, though this time to see her companion’s arms and hands in the cell of the opposite wall. She wondered why Priya didn’t wear a single piece of jewellery, not even a watch. She tried to recall seeing her on board the Tangaroa, had she seen her wearing anything then? She didn’t think so, but couldn’t be certain. She had only seen her a few times, and had usually been pre-occupied with gazing at her hair, or wondering why she was always alone.
Priya’s nose twitched and Selina became aware she had been staring for quite some time. She turned her head to the silhouettes of leaves trembling behind the curtains. She sighed a yawning moan, wondering what time Semilion would return and untie their binds.
Grinding her teeth she turned back and jumped. Priya’s eyes were wide open and staring at her. Selina laughed uncertainly. ‘Oh, I thought you were sleeping,’ she said, hoping she hadn’t been caught staring.
‘Is that why you were watching me?’
Selina blushed, and thanked the gloom for hiding her colour.
Priya smiled and looked around the room, ‘What time do you think it is?’
‘Ten to seven,’ she said, straining her neck. ‘When do you think he’ll come back?’
‘I don’t know. He either wants us to sweat it out or he’s been up all night discussing what to do with us.’
Both their ears pricked at the sound of footfall on the road outside. They looked at one another hesitantly, though the sound came and went without consequence. They lay back on their uncomfortable pallets, wincing for their chaffed wrists.
Priya noticed Selina’s unease, and reassured her that everything would be fine. ‘If he was going to do anything to us he’d have probably done it on the spur of the moment last night. He’s had time to think about it now.’
‘What if they’re having their council?’ Selina replied, imagining a host of angry villagers baying for their death. ‘What if they decide by popular opinion to execute us?’
Swishing grass sounded, then footfall on the stairs outside; they trudged loudly until stopping at the door, as though expressly to inform of their approach. There was a jangle of keys, and the door eased open. Silhouetted in the slither of pastel light that crept through the doorway was a short dumpy woman.
Selina couldn’t see as her back was to her, but Priya recognized her - she wasn’t aware of her name, but she had seen her lurking in the pub the night before.
‘It’s all right, we won’t hurt you,’ Priya said, and Selina looked at her with wide eye’s that said, Well? Who is it?
‘Don’t you give me none of that cheek, girl, or I’ll box your ears into next week!’ Betty said, pushing the door open cautiously. ‘I ain’t meant to be talking to yer, so don’t go compellin’ me to do so,’
Priya smiled at that. She looked slyly at Selina and winked before turning back to Betty. ‘What’s you’re name, love?’
‘Mind yer own!’
‘Is the gentleman we spoke to last night, Mr. Semilion… is he your boyfriend… Your lover?’
Betty rounded on Priya, her brow darkened. She pointed a stubby finger at her, saying, ‘Mr. Tupper is my employer! Lover, indeed, I’ve never heard the like. How dare you come here and make such claims! Oh, the shame of yer words, they make me quite ill!’
She turned and walked to the far end of the corridor between the cells, opening a gate that lead to a third cell and tugging on the curtain within. The gloom lifted a little more and turned the grey stone the colour of ivory. She told them to keep still before unlocking Priya’s cell, making her way cautiously behind her and opening another set of curtains. A plume of radiant light set Priya’s hair ablaze, and even Betty couldn’t help but admire the shimmering ringlets in a flicker of jealousy before the familiar rubbery scowl returned. She locked the door behind her and entered Selina’s cell, pulled away the third and final curtain, which brightened the cell-block to an almost dazzling white.
‘This is an old public toilet,’ Priya said, rolling over and looking behind her. ‘Look, you can see where the u-bend’s used to connect to the tiles.’
Selina turned to inspect the floor, noticing similar holes in her cell. ‘This is a toilet?’ she said to Betty.
‘Used to be that it did. Long time ago now…’ she looked around as though finding her bearings. She pointed at Selina. ‘That were the ladies,’ she turned to Priya and shrugged. ‘Looks like you drew the short straw.’
Selina laughed at Betty’s evident glee, baring her teeth. Priya watched the dimples on Selina’s cheeks with a nonchalant joy; it was refreshing to see her smile so brightly after all the angst and worry. She looked beyond Selina’s shoulder towards the barred window and waited until Betty had stepped outside before whispering, ‘Do you think if we got out of these ropes then we could make a run for it?’
Selina shook her head, ‘No, she’s locked the doors. Besides, you tried last night and…’
Priya slipped her hands from her binds, flexing her fingers dramatically and grinning. Selina watched, startled, as Priya rose from the crate and pulled herself up to the window. She released two brass fastenings and heaved it open a few centimetres, though the heavy bars on the exterior prevented its opening any further. A draught ruffled her hair and blew sparkling motes of dust into a frenzy.
‘Priya!’ Selina whispered sharply. ‘Priya, close it and sit down!’
Priya remained at the window, her eyes closed and her lips curled into a smile as she felt the warm sun on her luminous face.
Selina pleaded again, ‘Even if we got out they’d hunt us down,’ there was a moments silence. ‘You go, Priya, I’m staying here. I just want them to believe we mean them no harm and that we’re no threat. That Semilion guy seemed fine once he got that gun out of our faces. He seemed quite reasonable. He’ll understand, and he’ll let us go.’
‘You hope... What if this council of his doesn’t agree? What if they tell him we’re too much of a threat to their cosy little community? What if they say we have to be done away with?’
Selina blinked, uncomfortable that Priya had voiced her own fears.
Priya looked disappointed, and was about to say something as footsteps, with a brisker pace than that of Betty’s sounded on the steps outside. Selina panicked, and silently implored Priya to sit back down. The footsteps stopped and muffled conversation could be heard. The person outside was retreating and having a conversation with Betty.
‘Please, Priya,’ she whispered as the scuffing footfall advanced again and started up the steps.
Priya quickly moved back to her crate, and pulled the binds
around her wrists. She tugged at them with her teeth, though they didn’t look as taut as they had done the night before.
Keys sounded in the lock once more and Semilion entered the corridor of the cell-block.
‘Morning, Mr. Tupper.’ Priya said. ‘We haven’t tried to escape, as you can see. We’ve kept our end of the bargain. Can you untie us now and we’ll talk like modern humans?’
Semilion looked troubled, his bald head was fraught with lines and he looked as though he hadn’t slept all night. He stood by the door, looking between them as he addressed them.
‘I’m not going to release you,’ he said. Before Priya had a chance to flare into response, he pressed his palms towards her, saying, ‘until... until I’m satisfied with whom you are. To do this I’m going to have to separate you.’
He then turned to the door, shouting, ‘Baron?’
Baron came to the doorway. He wore a grey vest and some dirty looking, baggy green trousers.
‘Baron, could you give me a hand taking Miss…?’
‘Ravens.’ Selina said.
‘Would you mind taking Miss. Raven’s outside? Just to the bench.’
Baron nodded and unlocked Selina’s cell; his eyes were on her as he rattled the key in the lock, as though he wasn’t ashamed of showing her his blatantly obscene ambitions. His unashamed desire and air of condescension made her feel uneasy; knowing that he was judging the quality of her flesh as he took her by the elbow and pulled her to her feet. He grasped her tightly, his thumb smoothing her skin as though the situation were an intimate one. As they stepped from the cell she could feel him behind her, the heat of his breath on her neck, and his heavy grip on her shoulder.
She shielded her face from the bright light as they stepped into the sun, and Baron roughly thrust her in the direction of a wrought-iron bench in the shade of a bulbous sycamore tree.
She sat, scowling at him while he prowled to and fro, kicking up dust with his dirty boots. Before them was a road – almost consumed by grass and a century of creeping foliage; it wound beside the steep cliff and disappeared beyond the summit. They had walked it the previous day, and hadn’t suspected that the little square building swathed in ivy could possibly be a prison cell. It seemed hollow and untouched for generations, as did everything.
Ahead of them were the rooftops of an empty hotel complex they had searched the previous day, and then an expanse of sea cluttered with toppled wind turbines and the remnants of an old oil rig collapsed in the shallow waters like a foundered steamer.
Baron saw her gazing at the wreckage and offered her a cigarette. She declined and he lit a match and drew heavily whilst pointing to the oil platform. ‘Only happened a few years back,’ he said, ‘we’d been out to it for ages to take bits we needed, but pa said it were getting unsafe… he were right too cause there were a storm that sent it over. You should have heard the noise it made when it fell in on itself. Brought a few of the blackeye's sniffin’ around when it went, I can tell you.’
Selina said nothing, though thought of the black sphere they had seen scouring the beach the previous day. She made a mental note of the word blackeye, mildly amused by the simplicity of it.
Betty milled around the cell-block, seemingly employed to keep an eye on Selina and to be at Semilion’s summons should he need her. She picked at leaves and sat on the steps, looking over to Selina every once in a while in cautious scrutiny. After long minutes there came a muted call from within the cell-block and Betty disappeared for a moment, before taking her leave and trudging lethargically up the road toward Mortehoe.
‘What’s it like, outside?’ Baron said after a long silence between them.
Selina looked at him resentfully. He was only a few years younger than her though he carried himself like an ill-tempered prince. ‘Difficult.’ She said, and continued watching the cluttered sea-scape. He lit another cigarette and ignored her until his father came out of the cell-block, holding his hand about his face in the bright light.
‘Baron,’ he called, ‘Come and sit with Miss. Cray, will you?’ he stepped down on to the grass as Baron jumped to his feet, jogging the short distance.
And so it began; questions about her age, her marital status, her family, her job, her home, and her childhood. She frowned when he asked this. Why did he want to know?
‘I want to know everything about you. Where did you grow up?’
She answered with a short history of a life in Invercargill, some recollections of school and past relationships, her families struggle with the council and her departure from New Zealand,
‘That sums up your whole life?’ Semilion asked, sitting back on the bench.
‘Well, pretty much,’ she said, hoping she wasn’t going to have to fall into a detailed monologue of her life to date; for she was as complex as any person, yet could be,exasperatingly, reduced to nothing more than four zero’s on a bank statement.
Semilion looked at her for a long time. On retiring to bed he’d considered making them tell him every single detail about themselves with techniques he’d only read about in old espionage novels: bright lights, rubber hoses, deprivation of food and long periods of isolation.
Come three o’clock, however, when sleep had seemed a luxury in which only others could indulge, he pictured fancies of water-boarding, stress positions, and a retaliation of the sleep deprivation they had inflicted upon him. He felt bile rise inside him at the thought of it. They were his grandfather’s thoughts, not his own.
On his return to the cells he received word of the bodies in several bays along the coast.
He investigated the sight himself; and was lead to four brutalised corpses breaking on the rocks. The intensity of the sight, and the reports of other bodies along the coast, convinced him at once that the women had been telling the truth.
He gathered together those with him and told them to collect any who wanted to voice their opinions in a council. He made it clear to them his knowledge and his opinions, then ushered them on before making his way to the cells.
‘There’s not been anyone from the outside here in a long time,’ he said to Selina, an air of gravitas about him, as though he were showing her the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. ‘I just want to be certain that I’m not releasing someone into our community who’ll be the end of it.’
‘We’re just...’ Selina began, not sure how many times she could repeat the fact that they were merely castaways. ‘I wish we’d just kept walking,’ she sighed, looking back out to sea.
Semilion was quiet for a little while, watching her body language and her expressions. She seemed upset and bewildered, uncertain as to where she was and why she was there. He had found Priya much the same, though her strength of spirit was much stronger, and she appeared to be unwilling to admit that she was uncertain of anything.
‘Where were you heading for?’
‘My cousin lives in Russia. I was going to work there.’
There was another long silence, then he said, ‘So you boarded the ship, the... what was it called?’
‘The Tangaroa,’
‘Right, you boarded the Tangaroa when?’
‘On the second of April. Seven weeks ago,’
Semilion frowned, ‘Seven weeks? It doesn’t take seven weeks to sail to Russia. Was it a row-boat?’
‘It was a vagrant ship, what they call an immigrant haul. I couldn’t afford travel by the accepted means; fees for immunisations, antitoxins and quarantine lodging are astronomical. I’d been made redundant more times than I can remember so I emptied my life savings, a measly $430. No passport. No questions, just a one way ticket to the South of France, Ireland, Norway or Germany.’
The severity had escaped Semilion’s tone, and she felt as though she were simply engaged in conversation with a stranger.
‘Miss. Cray explained to me the risk of being discovered by the U.N. You were willing to risk being destroyed to get to Russia? Was New Zealand really so bad?’
‘Your peacefu
l little community doesn’t reflect the outside world, Mr. Tupper. You’re not at the mercy of giant corporations and the grasp of bureaucracy. I was at the end of my tether. The only prospect at home was to wind up in the debtors reformatory alongside my father. It was a desperate risk but the only option for me was to try and build a new life somewhere else.’
Semilion leaned forward, and spoke quietly to her. ‘Your friend... Miss. Cray. How did you come to meet her?’
Selina explained what had happened the morning after the shipwreck. Semilion looked at the floor as she explained how the long beach had been littered with bodies and debris, how she had roused Priya and spent hours searching for survivors.
‘Some washed up here this morning,’ he said solemnly.
Selina said nothing for a time, it seemed as though his questioning had come to an end. ‘What will happen to us?’ She asked, turning to him pensively.
‘We’ll have to keep you close,’ he said, standing. He offered his hand and she took it cautiously. ’Welcome to Mortehoe.’