Becoming (13 page)

‘I’m fine. Now let’s make a move.’

11

The group moved onto the road and over a wide, wooden bar gate into a field. The grass was thick and long which made progress heavy going. Their clothes were still soaked through adding more weight to their cold, weary limbs. The field edged upwards in a steady incline away from the coastline, sometimes golden, but tonight draped in a grey, deathly glow. They walked at a steady pace, Aran still leading the way, determined, as he had been the night before. The dark shadow of some woodland was up ahead at the far edge of the field. Aran led them around the woods conscious of the thick undergrowth, the darkness, and unknown dangers that may lie within. They hugged the perimeter where the grass was shortest. Aran was heading inland at an angle, keen to reach a river as soon as they could. There were several in the area, but he was unsure how far. Once they had found one, they would trace the path upstream leading to the hills and the new community, their new future.

Gaia knew a bit about this part of the mainland. She remembered studying it in one of the earlier phases, in the old building many years ago. They were in the north, on a much larger island that stretched for miles. It had thousands of miles of coastline, dramatic cliff tops, and pebble beaches. Many were lined with beautiful golden sand, as they were here. In the days before the new world this part of the mainland had been known as Northumberland. It was an ancient land where waves of tribes and communities had arrived across the ages. Some had conquered, others lived alongside. It was whispered that many years ago warriors had come from countries across the sea. This was where the community got its pure blood from, marked by the blue eyes they all shared.

There had been much bloodshed in this area, and there were many ancient monuments to this history of warfare. Large fortified dwellings known as castles littered the landscape. There was also a long stone wall that stretched right across the north. This had been built by an invading army and named in honour of their leader. It was built to protect the invaders, to keep out the people of the north. They had a reputation for being wild, fierce and unconquerable. They were the free spirits, the ones that could not be tamed.

Now very few people lived in the north, only a few community settlements. Many of the old villages and settlements had been occupied by the outsiders, who had tried to build new communities of their own. It was rumoured most were wild, lawless places, though some offered refuge and hope. This area of the mainland was mostly abandoned fields, and ancient hills, rivers and woodland. It had been a land of farming in the past, the fields grazed by livestock such as sheep and cattle. Those animals had left the fields, died or slaughtered by man and beast.

The remoteness of the north was one of the reasons it appealed to the community. It was why it had been chosen to train and nurture the young. This was where they would Become. It was a place of isolation, where you could be unnoticed and lost. It was somewhere the community could contain and control. There were few outsiders so security was less of a worry. The main problem was the creatures. There was the added appeal of the islands, chosen for the Nurturing phase. These were uncertain and volatile years for the young, a time they were vulnerable to dangerous influences and ideas. It was deemed vital that discipline, structure and routine were instilled in their lives. They must be taught in the ways of the community without distraction or temptation. The islands were perfect. What better walls of protection than the sea?

The island was the only training community for miles. It was rumoured to be a special training centre where only the chosen were sent, the elite. Gaia was sure they all thought this, or wished it to be true. It was the nature of being young to believe you were special and chosen.

The deserted area was to the group’s advantage in reaching the hills. They were unlikely to encounter many people. The main threat were the outsiders and the creatures. The outsider were those that had survived but lived alone, those that had managed to break free, or had been cast out. Gaia knew such people existed, and the young had been taught to treat them with caution and contempt. The outsiders were different, not of pure blood. They were feral, dangerous, and to be avoided. These were the people who could not fit into the structure of the community, abide by the rules, or contribute. The young were taught the outsiders were mad men and women, social deviants, crooks, and criminals. The outsiders chose to live off their wits and wickedness and were beholden to no-one but themselves. They gave nothing to anyone and received nothing in return. If the outsiders threatened they were dealt with. Those that kept away were tolerated. The community did interact and trade with some established groups of outsiders. Deals and treaties existed with some that could be trusted, but in the main they were avoided. The young all knew the outsiders had a fierce reputation. The outsiders and the creatures would be as much of a threat as the leaders who would soon hunt the group down.

Morning was upon them. The moon had almost completed its slow journey across the sky. It was about to be smothered by the light of the rising sun, the ball of flame that gave them life, the fire that warmed them. Gaia was hoping that the warmth of the sun would breath new life into the group, give them new vigour, new enthusiasm, new hope for the day ahead. On a mundane level, Gaia hoped that it would dry her clothes, and warm her aching bones. This was the first day of the group’s freedom, when all they had done would be known. It was the point of no turning back. There was a long road ahead, of uncertainty, and danger, but also potential, opportunity, and hope.

The night had been clear, with no clouds in the sky, the moon a beacon and guide through the darkness of their journey. The temperatures had been close to freezing. The seawater that soaked their clothes and limbs made matters worse. They were tired and exhausted. The physical exertions of the escape could be felt already, but the emotional toll was higher and weighed heavy upon them all. There were wounds, fresh and still open, stinging from raw exposure to the elements. The wounds would heal in time, but the scars would remain.

Gaia watched as the sun crept over the horizon and the first shafts of the cold dawn light illuminated the hazy, red sky. The grass was heavy with small droplets of dew. Tiny beads of crystalline water clung to each blade, shattering with every step, plunging to the bed of earth below. Aran stopped on the brow of a hill, the others tucked in behind. He crouched low, peered over the edge, and down into the field below. At the far end of the field by a small copse of trees was a farmhouse. It was tired, old, and looked deserted, but it was shelter and somewhere they could get some rest. The group needed to eat, dry their clothes, and recharge. The farmhouse was an ideal place to take stock and plan their next steps. A place they could reflect on the night before and begin to treat their wounds. Gaia shuffled in the grass, moved closer to Aran.

‘Does it look safe?’

‘I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. It’s still early. If anyone’s in there they may still be sleeping. There’s no smoke from the chimney and it’s very cold. If someone was up you’d have thought they’d make a fire straight away. I reckon we wait a while, just keep an eye on it and look out for any movements. If we think it’s clear we’ll go down and check it our more closely.’

Aran swivelled round to face the others.

‘Freya and Yann. Stay up here and keep an eye out for anyone approaching. If everything is clear we’ll signal you.’

Yann gave a thumbs up.

‘OK. Sounds like a good plan.’

Yann took off his rucksack and placed it on the grass. He lay down using it as a pillow, closed his eyes, and began to drift off. Yann was silent, nonchalant, almost indifferent. Gaia had not paid much attention to him so far. He was quiet and had stayed in the background, deferring to Aran, but it was clear Yann was more relaxed about the escape than the others. Aran rolled his eyes at Gaia, and smiled. Gaia returned the smile, and felt a rush of warmth run through her, the first time she had felt any comfort in hours. Gaia moved closer to Yann and spoke.

‘You’re pretty laid back about things Yann.’

Yann opened one of his eyes and smiled.

‘Who me? Why worry I reckon? We all think the world is screwed, but it isn’t. We are, humanity I mean. We didn’t destroy the world, only ourselves. The problem is we think the world is all about us. Look at this morning. I mean look at this beauty. The world is still as beautiful as it ever was, we just can’t see it.’

Yann closed his eye.

‘Now if you don’t mind I need some rest.’

Aran and Gaia exchanged another glance. Freya followed Yann’s lead, and rested her head on her rucksack.

‘If he’s grabbing the chance we may as well make the most of it! Give me a nudge when you’re ready to leave.’

Aran gestured to Gaia. They both looked at Freya, who was already bedded down with eyes closed, chasing Yann into the land of dreams.

‘It makes sense Gaia. There’s no use all of us keeping watch. We need to take as many opportunities as we can to rest. I’ll be fine on my own.’

They were all exhausted, but Aran and Gaia were filled with nervous adrenalin, of their responsibility, guilt, shame and remorse. Gaia needed sleep, but could not.

‘I’m fine for now. I’ll watch too, if that’s OK with you?’

‘If you’re sure.’

Gaia and Aran sat awhile in silence, both scanning the landscape below. The farmhouse was dirty white, a two storey building surrounded by an assortment of barns and outbuildings. The paddocks and pens were empty, long since redundant. A red tractor stood by one of the barns, its tyres were flat and the bodywork rusting. Gaia looked at the windows to see any sign of movement, but there was nothing. Everything was still and silent, wrapped in the golden hew of the first dawn light and slight haze of the delicate morning mist.

‘It looks deserted. I can’t see anything. Do you want to go check it out?’

Aran had a cautious look on his face. There was something troubling him, something not quite right. He moved closer to Gaia and pointed to the farmhouse.

‘There’s a couple of things I’m a bit worried about. Look by the side of the house, on the right. Can you see the small shed?’

‘Yes’

‘Do you notice anything strange about it?’

Gaia peered at the shed. The door was open, it looked as though it was filled with logs, but there was something there. The roof and walls were draped with small white objects hanging from strings. Gaia squinted, but could not make out what they were.

‘What’s those white things hanging from the strings?’

‘Exactly. I think they’re skulls. They don’t look human. I think they’re animals. They’re either trophies, a collection of kills, or they’re a warning.’

Aran was right. Gaia could just make them out now. From this distance they were small, but once you worked it out, you could see they were skulls. Gaia whispered.

‘I reckon we check it out at least. We’re armed, and there are four of us.’

Aran thought for a while, still filled with doubts, not wanting to put any more lives at risk. This was their reality now, danger and uncertainty.

‘OK. Let’s do it.’

Aran woke Freya. Gaia and Aran left their rucksacks and took the weapons. Gaia had a knife and axe, Aran a machete and spear. They made their way behind the brow of the hill to a treelined fence that snaked its way down towards the farmhouse. Following the line of the fence using the trees as cover both kept low. They neared the farmyard, jumped the fence and crept behind a barn. Aran slipped into the barn and Gaia followed. The building was damp and musty, with little in it other than some farm implements that had not been used for years. They tiptoed to the far wall, facing the farmhouse just metres across the courtyard. They peered through a gap in the wooden walls. The door of the farmhouse was closed, the white paint dirty and flaking, the wood rotten. The windows of the house were filthy and a couple of panes were broken. Curtains hung from the upstairs window, tattered old orange rags that were closed. Aran looked at Gaia and pointed to the far side of the barn. There was a small door which was ajar. He made his way to it, and crept through, keeping tight against the wall. Gaia followed as Aran edged his head around the corner of the barn checking the farmhouse again. The house was still wrapped in silence, nothing stirred.

Aran gave Gaia the thumbs up and pointed to the small shed by the side of the house. Gaia could see the white objects more clearly now. Aran was right, the assortment of macabre trophies were strung together on thin lengths of rope. They looked as though they had been there for some time. Gaia could make out size and shape now. They were distinctive, and even without the flesh it was clear what they were. They were the skulls of rats.

Aran darted across the courtyard and crouched behind the shed. His head was pressed against the wall, between two sets of hanging skulls. He beckoned to Gaia who ran across the open yard and leant beside him. Aran put his mouth next to Gaia’s ear. It reminded her of the night in the woods, the night when their skin first touched and lips brushed. It was when they were first united, together in fear, when Gaia first felt the surge of confusion inside, the rush of warmth and passion. The same mix of emotion surged through her body, as his soft lips pressed against her. Aran whispered.

‘It looks clear. We’ll go round the back and see if there’s another entrance. Check the windows. You go that way, I’ll take this route. I’ll meet you round the back.’