Becoming (23 page)

19

Gaia kept guard while the others were sleeping. The cave was pitch black. Blinded, the other senses had come alive. There were far more than five senses, but people had become lazy and reliant on only a few. This had led to arrogance, a false sense of comfort which made the species weak and vulnerable. Gaia and the young on the island had been trained to use these lost senses, to know and be aware of them - hunger and thirst, pressure and pain, the sense of time and direction. In the dark, damp cave sound and smell were alive. The moist air mingled with condensation from their breath, forming a thin cloud of vapour, layered with the smell of moss.

The sounds assaulted Gaia most of all. The patter of the relentless downpour outside. The whistling of the brisk wind as it darted through the entrance to the cave. The sound of dripping, steady and rhythmic, a living organic beat, always changing, evolving like a heartbeat. Gaia could feel her own heart beating with the dripping of the rain. It was a soft and gentle beat, deep within the wall of her chest. There was the sound of the others breathing, and their fidgeting as they slept. Gaia tried to guess the person from the sounds. Some of the movements were louder and suggested someone heavier. These had to be Aran or Freya. The direction suggested Aran who seemed restless, always twisting and turning. There was a soft, slow, steady breathing. It was the same rhythm, but barely audible, almost as one. This must be the girls. There was the occasional sound of movement outside, a stone sliding under the weight of water, or a small animal braving the weather in search of food.

The sense of danger was the most important of all. Gaia had been trained to trust her instincts, to know when something did not feel right, to sense when something was there, or about to occur. It was the toughest of all the senses to master. It was elusive, ephemeral, often subjective and pure judgement. Gaia’s antenna was very different to Freya’s, but both were taught to heighten their awareness, adjust, leave nothing to chance. Trust nothing and suspect everything. This was the default position, how the young were programmed.

Gaia heard movement in the cave. One of the others was stirring. There was shuffling towards her, the presence of someone at her shoulder. The darkness whispered. It was Freya.

‘Do you want me to take over now?’

‘If you like. There’s nothing out there, just the wind and rain. It’s blowing a hooley. I hope it stops by morning. To be honest I’m not that tired. I don’t mind sitting here a bit longer. You can go back to sleep if you like.’

Gaia could feel Freya move beside her. Freya sat hunched up, knees tucked into her chest. Their jackets rubbed together making a scratching sound, amplified by the acoustics of the cave.

‘I’m sorry about earlier. Things might be catching up with me a bit. I didn’t mean to have a go at you.’

‘It’s fine. I think we’re all on edge. The past few days have been pretty intense.’

‘You could say that.’

They continued to whisper, but despite their efforts everything echoed in the small cave. Even the softest words sounded like chatter. Freya leant her head against Gaia’s.

‘We’ll get through this. I know we will.’

There was a long pause, the silence filled with the music of the night. Freya continued.

‘There’s no way I’m going back. I’ll die before they take me back to the island.’

Gaia listened to Freya’s words, unable to see her face, expressions or body language.  Gaia concentrated on the tone of her friend’s voice, heard the meaning of the words, found the spaces in between. The words echoed in the cave and Gaia’s mind, hearing not just what was being said, but also what was not. Gaia whispered.

‘I don’t think that’ll happen. Even if they caught us there’s stuff I’ve done which I’ll have to pay for.’

‘Me too, and there are things I can’t face again.’

There was silence again. The sounds of whispers were replaced by the background sounds of the cave and outside. Gaia could hear Freya’s breathing, could feel the warmth of her breath, the gentle movement of her body. Gaia could sense something. Freya’s body had tensed, her breathing quickened. Gaia broke the silence.

‘What things?’

Gaia could feel Freya’s mounting tension, the rhythm of her breathing. Freya spoke, her voice rising above a whisper.

‘You’ll have heard rumours about some of the leaders, about stuff that happens, the kind of things they do.’

Freya’s voice broke off. Gaia’s fingers crept around the stone floor, feeling for Freya’s. She found them and crawled across her cold hands, taking a firm grip.

‘I understand. You don’t have to tell me anything.’

There was something Gaia wanted to tell Freya, something that changed everything for the group, turning them from fugitives to outlaws. Freya was more involved than she knew. Gaia had killed a leader and Freya had to know.

‘Freya, there’s something I have to tell you. I haven’t spoken about it to any of you. Aran knows about it though.’

Gaia gathered her words. There was a moment of doubt, worrying how Freya might react. Gaia continued, her voice broken, the words coming out in fragments.

‘The night we escaped. I did something. I had to do it. I had no real choice. He deserved it.’

Gaia composed herself again, trying to slow her breathing. She imagined the words in her head, but the more she thought of them the more terrible they sounded. It almost seemed as though she was speaking of another person. Gaia could not associate the words with her actions. Three words and a name, his name. Over and over, she kept saying the words in her head. Freya was growing impatient.

‘What did you do? Tell me.’

‘I killed Hakan.’

Gaia spat out the words which hurtled into the cold, damp air of the cave. Gaia saw them in her mind, hanging in the darkness, waiting for Freya to grab them, process and understand them. There was a long wait, seconds seemed like minutes. Time slowed to a heavy, monotonous beat. Gaia waited for Freya to speak, desperate to hear a voice, some words, a response. Freya’s voice was calm.

‘I don’t know what to say. I never imagined this.’

There was silence again. Gaia’s heart was racing, anxious for Freya’s judgement, desperate to know either way how she felt. Freya kept her hanging, not out of cruelty, but shock, and a struggle to find the right words.

‘You did what you had to Gaia. Hakan was evil. They’re all evil in some way, but he was one of the worst. He got what he deserved.’

Gaia tightened her grip on Freya’s hand. It was a thank you. Gaia was relieved, not only by her friend’s response, but sharing this with someone else. Aran and Gaia had not spoken of Hakan’s murder. He would have known Hakan was dead because Gaia was there. Clara’s presence would have confirmed this. Saying the words, confirming it to someone else did not lessen the act, but lightened the load. Gaia knew she would always have to live with the burden. Killing Hakan was necessary and justified, but it was still a life taken. The consequences were unknown. If Gaia succeeded in the escape and built a new life she would have to live with this. The group had all done what they needed to survive. Without survival they were nothing. They had to kill to live. That was what the community had taught the young. If Gaia was caught, she would have to face the penalty. This was her confession, some assurance and forgiveness. If anyone would understand it would be Freya. Gaia whispered.

‘I was lucky. Hakan never got the chance to take advantage of me. Things were heading that way before I put a stop to them.’

Gaia felt Freya squeeze her hand, as she continued.

‘There were others. Lots. I’d hear them at night sneaking off to his dorm in the night. The girls would wait till they thought we were all asleep, but I’d hear them. Clara was one of them. That’s why I brought her. She was waiting outside his room on the night, after I killed him.’

Freya lifted her head from Gaia’s shoulder and answered.

‘It makes more sense now. I wondered why you’d brought her.’

‘I didn’t want to leave her and I couldn’t just kill her. Clara was an airhead. She couldn’t help it, but she didn’t deserve to die.’

Gaia’s voice tailed off to a cracked fragile whisper, inaudible even in the silence of the cave.

‘Though I ended up killing her anyway.’

Freya caught the delicate fragments of Gaia’s words.

‘You mustn’t think like that Gaia. Clara’s death was an accident. There’s nothing you could have done. It could have been you.’

‘Maybe it should have been instead.’

Freya interrupted, her voice firm and agitated, lifting above a whisper and echoing around the stone walls.

‘Stop it. Less of the ‘what ifs?’ This whole escape is about ‘what ifs?’ What’s the point of thinking about them? We’ve got to move on, in our heads too. We can worry about all that when we’re finished. You’re strong Gaia, and we need you to stay strong. Don’t let the doubts get to you. They’ll only weaken you.’

The silence and blackness enveloped them again. Gaia wrestled with images of death in her mind, a fleeting jigsaw of visions, pieces scattered everywhere. There was the sea, blood, the moon, waves, and there was drowning. A face appeared. It was Clara’s. It was blue, her eyes bloodshot and lifeless. Clara’s body was washed up on a beach at night, alone, the waves lapping around her cold, stiff corpse. Gaia saw the eyes again, and thought of Hakan, his face still alive, a grin of lust and desire. He was sitting on a bed, stroking someone’s hair, a girl. Gaia could not see the girl’s face, but she turned and Gaia saw her. It was Freya. Gaia sat upright and blurted out her words, louder than intended.

‘Was it Hakan?’

‘No.’

Their voices boomed around the cavernous chamber. They stopped, listened to the silence that had returned. Gaia feared they would wake someone, especially Aran in his fitful sleep. There was no sound, no movement, only the sound of breathing, gentle, rhythmic breathing. Freya whispered this time, much calmer, a subtle apology in her voice, tip-toeing through her words.

‘It wasn’t Hakan. It was someone else.’

Gaia ran through all the male leaders in her mind. They were all capable of abuse, none would surprise her. Gaia knew little of some leaders though. The acts happened in the dead of night, under cover of darkness. More often it was the dorm leader with someone under their watch. Freya was not in the dorm of a male leader. Freya whispered again. 

‘I know what you’re thinking Gaia. Which one? You’re probably going through them all and weighing up the most likely. Don’t go there, please.’

Gaia continued to process each of the leaders in her mind, making a mental list, considering who was the most likely. Freya continued.

‘They’re all the same Gaia. Liars and frauds. Every single one. Male and female.’

They are all the same. Liars and frauds. Every single one. Male and female.
It was then Gaia realised. Everything pointed to one person, the one Gaia would never have imagined. Gaia had heard rumours about Freya and her links with leaders. Gaia had always thought Freya capable of anything and stopping at nothing to win favour. Freya could never be a victim to Gaia. Freya was always in control, would never let anyone take advantage of her. Gaia now saw her friend was vulnerable, just like all the rest. Freya had been abused by those she trusted. Freya was a victim, and it was clear to Gaia who the abuser was. Gaia spoke the name that Freya had not, that she could not. Gaia spoke for her friend.

‘It was Kali.’

Freya did not speak. She did not need to. Gaia knew she was right, and the absence of words confirmed it. Gaia felt Freya squeeze her hand. They sat together for many minutes, listening to the sounds of the room, the shuffling and breathing. They listened to the outside, the wind and rain. Neither spoke for a long while. There was no need for words. There was simple comfort in each other’s presence, in being together.

Gaia understood her friend now. The layers of judgement and prejudice had been peeled away. Freya’s actions and words had shown Gaia another person. Was it the real Freya? Maybe not, but sometimes the veil is lifted. We get to realise who a person is and what made them. The other person becomes a mirror in which we see a reflection of who we really are. Freya had become a mirror, and Gaia had come to know more of herself through the reflection. Gaia did not always like what she saw. She did not like knowing she was wrong or enjoy overcoming her prejudices. Yet, Gaia was humble enough to accept and learn from this. Freya had shown Gaia how to be stronger and survive, revealed their shared humanity, and made Gaia want to become better. Freya had grown from enemy to friend, someone Gaia trusted with her life.

As the two friends sat in silence, listening to the myriad of sounds around them, something new could be heard. Gaia could just make it out. It was very faint at first, so much so Gaia thought she may be imagining it. Freya’s body stiffened, Gaia sensed the tension mount in the cave. The others slept on, oblivious, but both Gaia and Freya were focused on the new sound. It was in the distance, but getting nearer. It was muffled, dampened by the rainfall, drifting in and out of earshot in the swirling wind. There was no doubt it was there, getting louder, still faint, revealing itself more and more. The sound grew until it was unmistakable, familiar and distinctive. It was the sound of dogs barking.