The Future's Mine Read online

  ‘Nothing, but I’m surprised you needed to ask, considering there’s a bucket of gin in front of me. Think I might drown myself in it.’

  ‘Stop it, Matt. Things have been bad before.’

  His gaze fixed mine; deep, brown, sorrowful eyes that suddenly were empty of any humour. ‘Not like this.’

  That shocked me. The one thing that we both hated was self-pity.

  ‘Matthias …’ I started but then I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just signalled to Nora to pour me a measure and joined him in his misery binge.

  Whilst we were quietly supping, my eyes began to wander. I hadn’t noticed as I came in but there was an unnatural, stiff atmosphere. Less rowdy, people nervously glancing towards the back of the tavern where there was a small, secluded alcove. I turned to look and heard laughter and high-pitched giggling coming from the corner.

  ‘Who’s in there?’ I asked Matthias.

  He gave me a dark look and said in an affected pompous voice, ‘I think, m’lady, that’s our most honourable and admirable gentleman, the Mayor.’ He grimaced.

  I’d heard about this before. Disguising himself as one of the ‘common people’, the Mayor liked to dress up in ratty old clothes and take himself to one of the taverns for a night of indulgence and dirty excess. He was fooling no-one. Everyone knew it was him. No-one else in the Protectorate could afford enough food to be that fat. And everyone knew that beneath his upstanding façade lay a grubby old hypocrite who gorged on the misfortunes of others. Crawling to his masters at the Metropole, he forced his own people to crawl to his every whim.

  I glanced over again, more interested now. However, it was difficult to catch a view of him as two young girls sat on his lap. They were laughing at his feeble jokes like manipulated ventriloquist dummies. Their painted smiles and deadened gazes only further convinced me that they must be wooden puppets, controlled by him; for what normal girl would ever allow such a vile man to come near her? Desperate ones, I suppose.

  They couldn’t have been older than sixteen, only three years older than Edie. The thought turned me to ice. The reek of delusion was strong. He was deluded if he thought that for one moment these delicate things found him attractive. And they were deluded if they thought that this was a life worth living.

  Hate seethed through me in a sudden, venomous rush. I hated him, most definitely, but I hated the girls, too. Didn’t they know they were colluding in our oppression by allowing him to fantasise he was entitled to anything he desired? Surely if everyone stopped treating him as all-powerful, the illusion would be smashed and we could pull him down? And why stop there? Without the Parrots, the Metropole would lose their grip on this far-flung edge of the Empire. We’re the barbarians at the borders. They’re frightened of us savages. They wouldn’t dare to oppress us if we were united against them.

  Matthias touched my arm and shook me out of any reverie. ‘We could plan something, you know …’

  There was a gleam in his eye. This was our speciality: waging secret wars against people who weren’t entirely aware that they were doing battle with us. Of course we always won. First there had been the Parrot who repeatedly confiscated our nets from the cove. He found his house, belongings, and pets tied up with netting each day for two weeks until the point finally registered in his thick skull. The baker who had been padding out flour with wood shavings found his firewood for the oven had been replaced with useless shavings each day. He had to close his business for weeks until his quality control improved. There were others, too.

  ‘I already have a plan,’ I said and smiled back at Matthias. We leaned closer and began to plot.

  Chapter Three

  The next day, we began our surveillance. Matthias and I took turns to lurk in the tree-covered marshes which overlooked the Mayoral Complex, watching the comings and goings of Parrots, aides, and merchants. The marshes provided perfect cover. The squelching wetness and gaseous outpouring from the peat meant that very few people ventured there. A permanent, fine mist hung over the ground. The damp atmosphere coaxed giant, prehistoric-looking ferns to lay claim to every surface. They provided perfect coverage. Huge rodents and swarms of buzzing marsh flies further added to the feeling that this was a lost land from an ancient time.

  We nestled deep in a patch of bracken on the edge of the marsh and used my brass binoculars to get a better view. They were my mother’s. I never knew her but the orphanage assured me that the binoculars were the only thing that she left to me. I didn’t know what happened to her, I didn’t even know her name or whether she was alive. To be honest, I didn’t really care. Perhaps that sounds heartless. Edie, Aiden, and I were dumped on the doorstep of the orphanage like a special delivery parcel when I was four years old and the twins were little older than a few weeks. It seemed to me that she mustn’t have been quite right in the head if the one gift she chose to ensure that her children got the best start in life was a pair of rusty old binoculars. How useful.

  I don’t like thinking about our time in the orphanage. It wasn’t that it was particularly bad or that we were mistreated. It just felt like we were in limbo, waiting for life to begin. I spent most of my days pacing the room, deliberately angling for trouble in order to see some excitement. I encouraged the other inmates to stage sit-ins in the kitchen and chaired secret meetings with the aim of planning a mass breakout. We had codenames, passwords, secret handshakes. I drew up a timetable for doing surveillance checks on the wardens, secretly timing how long it took for them to have a smoke or go to the loo. To what end, I don’t know, but it felt like the more information I had, the greater chance I would have of escape. To the other orphans it was just a fun game, something to while away the unending boredom between dinner and bedtime. But to me it was crucial practice.

  One night, when I was twelve, I escaped. No codenames, passwords, disguises, or elaborate ruses were needed. At about eleven in the evening, I walked up to the night-guard desk where Old Oblivious was snoring, took the front door key off his chain, opened the door, and walked out with Edie and Aiden holding my hands. I imagine that they were so relieved to have their most troublesome inmate leave that they didn’t bother to look for us.

  At first, our escape made us crazy – running, leaping, whooping, spontaneously bursting into little jigs and singsongs. We were just so pleased to be free with no bedtime and no wardens. We had hardly ever been outside the orphanage before. But then, the disembodied howling from woodland creatures became magnified in the blackness of the marshes. We imagined prowling monsters whose sole purpose on the earth was to cause us harm. I tried to make it less scary for Edie and Aiden by getting them to refer to me as ‘captain’ and I called them ‘comrades’ like we were playing a game of soldiers – words I had heard some Parrots use.

  We were like a little troop of hungry soldiers with a fierce allegiance to our freedom and each other. I made Edie and Aiden swear to my made-up constitution which, I’m not joking, included the command ‘Thou shall not pee near our drinking water’. I’d heard this was very bad for your health and had seen matron smack some grimy little boys for trying to aim for the freshwater barrel in a game of ‘who can get the highest’. I was carried away by my own cleverness and hadn’t made any plans for what we would do after our great getaway.

  Of course, within a week, we were famished; foraged mushrooms and berries couldn’t satisfy our stomachs. In an attempt to be resourceful, I’d fashioned a makeshift spear from a stick and a piece of sharp flint. I hadn’t really expected to catch anything with it but I wanted to give Edie and Aiden some reassurance that it seemed like I knew what I was doing.

  After the initial excitement wore off, I noticed that Edie and Aiden were starting to get antsy. They weren’t used to the marshes and I felt guilty that they were wet and miserable. I tried to distract them by getting them to holler back our constitution in the hope that blind patriotism would rejuvenate their spirits but their responses were hollow.

  One night, I heard Edie quietly w
heedle Aiden about trying to convince me to return to the orphanage where we could fill our bellies. I knew that I needed to quickly subdue this faithless talk or else risk losing my followers. So I did what any good leader does – I lied. Not a big lie. Just little white lies to keep my troops on message and focused.

  I stomped around the riverbank, holding aloft my spear like some kind of magical trident, proclaiming that it would be our saviour and our food would be bountiful. I mysteriously told them that I had a plan for the long-game and that its details would become apparent if they were patient enough. It bought me some time. In the meanwhile, until a bolt of inspiration hit me, I decided I had to start looking in earnest for some proper food. An army cannot last on an empty belly.

  So I laid in wait by the riverbank, not hoping for much luck until a trout meandered by. Unexpectedly, my spear found its target and I hauled the wriggling creature from the depths onto the mossy bank. Well, that caught me off-guard. I stared in horror at the slimy monster. Its bulging eye fixed me with an accusatory glare. Its body convulsed in a struggle to save its own life. Blood spilled from the wound in its side. I had no idea how the hell we were supposed to eat it when it was still jolting about like it had been electrified.

  I poked at it half-heartedly with my spear and leapt back in surprise as it threw itself malevolently at me. I think I may have even given a little scream of fright. I was a bit squeamish about killing animals back then and I felt sorry for making the pathetic creature suffer. I tried to recover some nonchalance, as if catching the creature had been entirely intentional and that, of course, I knew what the next step in the process of killing and eating it was. I inched in closer for the kill, my spear hovering over its body.

  ‘You’ll never kill it by just looking at it, no matter how ugly your face is,’ drawled a voice from the bushes.

  A boy of about fifteen emerged. He was broad-shouldered, attractive with hair and eyes as black as the night, his mouth smirking but not unkindly. His dark eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth. He’d obviously seen my posturing with the spear and thought it hilarious. ‘Here, let me show you.’ He took the trout to a nearby rock and rapped its head against the surface. It stopped moving at once.

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied tartly, ‘but I was just getting to that.’

  ‘Is that right?’ His eyebrow lifted almost to the hairline of his messy, dark fringe. ‘I see, and I suppose you’re just getting round to gutting and filleting it, too? And starting a fire and building a spit-roast? Since you’re so capable, captain, guess I’ll just leave you to it then …’ He moved towards the bushes, his dark hair starting to merge with the shadows as he stealthily slipped away.

  ‘Wait!’ I cried. I saw the smirk resurface on his face and I immediately regretted calling out to him. ‘… I would … appreciate some help building a fire. I could do it myself but I’m feeling a bit tired,’ I said stiffly. It was difficult for me to admit defeat. He didn’t reply, so I continued. ‘If you help us out, you can share the fish with us.’

  ‘Well …’ he stretched out the word, making me wait, obviously enjoying every second. ‘I am quite busy and important, got a lot to do, no time to be hanging around with children …’

  ‘Just bloody help us,’ I growled. I had no patience for playing silly games.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask!’ he cried in mock jubilation. ‘Throw us that sorry flint and I’ll see what I can do about gutting this thing.’

  Matthias has been my right-hand man ever since. Being three years older than I am, his expertise in the art of survival has been invaluable. He has supported us, mentored me, saved our lives on more than one occasion, and been the most loyal and understanding friend I’ve ever had. Actually he’s more like a brother than a friend. He is an orphan too, although he knows who his parents were. They were part of the rebels who challenged the Mayor and the Metropole eighteen years ago. The story is legendary on our island even though we are forbidden to talk about it. He was two when they were hanged in the marketplace. He lives with his grandmother now, who is ancient and slightly mad, but I have never seen someone act as kindly as he does when he speaks to her. I know that he will be a brilliant role model to Aiden in the next few years; providing him with male advice that I simply cannot give.

  Crouching in our hiding place next to the Mayoral Complex reminded me of those early days. We were just practising our skills back then, just children playing games, but this time, this time it was for real.

  I forced myself to think about the implications of my plan – the penalty for treason is death. The charge of ‘treason’ covers a whole catalogue of offences and includes any minor transgression such as talking to a crowd, enquiring after the Mayor’s health, laughing at a Parrot and, most importantly, stealing from the state. We were on thin ice.

  Chapter Four

  After our initial surveillance, we decided to go back the next morning to gather more information. The morning dawned sharp with frost. The cold needled at my face and I sunk under the fur blanket, determined to wring every last ounce of warmth from my bed before I had to get up. There was a shuffling outside my door. It creaked open and a pair of large eyes peered in like some kind of nocturnal creature returning from a night of foraging.

  ‘Edie, is that you?’

  ‘Yes. It’s 5 am. Matthias will be waiting for you.’

  ‘I know, I was just getting up. What are you doing up so early?’

  Her feet were slippered in rabbit fur and her fair hair was mussed and fluffy. She had the twitchy softness of a new-born bunny.

  I opened my blanket. ‘Come on. There’s enough warmth for two.’

  She hopped in and we snuggled down. Wolf, our Irish wolfhound, stole into the room and curled at our feet. He pushed his warm nose into Edie’s hand.

  ‘You haven’t been sleeping again,’ I said. ‘I heard you up at two.’

  ‘I was cold.’

  ‘Well you saw me split some wood yesterday. You know where it is. You could’ve built up the stove.’

  She shook her head violently.

  ‘You’re not frightened of going out in the dark to get the wood, are you? Wolf would go with you. That’s why Matthias got him for us. For protection.’ Wolf snored lightly in his sleep; he was about as threatening as a marshmallow but we could not imagine our lives without him now. Matthias had bought Wolf from a trapper a few years back and he had been at our side ever since. Matthias had also won the houseboat we lived on from a drunken sailor at Nora’s. The houseboat was creaky and cold but it was our home, nestled deep under a weeping willow tree next to the marshy coastline.

  Edie shook her head again.

  I waited. Edie was not the type of person to be bullied into giving up her secrets. She was as soft skinned as a puppy but when poked, could curl up like a hedgehog and swallow down her feelings.

  ‘I just don’t like it when you plan things,’ she eventually said. ‘It’s fine when it’s a merchant or even a Parrot. But this is the Mayor. It’s different. If he catches you –’

  ‘He won’t catch me.’

  ‘He won’t?’

  ‘No, haven’t you seen his fat belly? He can barely walk without causing an earthquake, never mind run after me.’

  Edie giggled and hid her face in the fur.

  ‘Don’t you want some of that food?’

  She nodded and her eyes found mine. Her hair was as soft as silk in my hands.

  ‘Then I’ll get it for you. You don’t have to worry. When have I ever let you down? Now, back to bed, early bird. I don’t want to see you up until at least midday.’

  She left my room. Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed to meet Matthias. As I padded across the wooden floor, the cold seemed to razor at my soles. The water from my bucket was iced with a film of frost that cracked satisfyingly when I tapped it. My fingers turned to icicles the minute I dunked them in the water. I braced myself and splashed water on my face, dancing from foot to foot to keep warm. I scrubbed myself clean with a cloth.
Well, as clean as I could. Brigadus dirt seemed to be ingrained and permanent like a tattoo.

  I headed to the cracked mirror where the few personal belongings I had were scattered. Matthias and I had a system of camouflage that helped us to blend into the shadows in the marshes and I reached for my make-up to put it on. Black and maroon smudges made from coal dust and gemloch berries. Moss-green smears on my cheeks made from pounded dock leaves. I twisted my waist-length, dirty-blonde hair into a bun and covered it with a hood. Dressed in black, I slipped out of the boat, closed the door quietly, and disappeared into the shadows of the woods. I picked my way carefully through the undergrowth to where Matthias was waiting.

  He was almost invisible, hidden amongst the bracken. He had leaves stuck in his messy, dark hair like he was some sort of pagan prince. He didn’t flinch when I emerged right behind him. He had the ears of a bat and must have heard my footfall. I reminded myself to try harder to be quieter in future. ‘Sit down,’ he said softly.

  When I’d cleared a small patch of thorns and sat next to him, he passed me the binoculars. ‘See there?’

  He pointed at the entrance to the kitchens – a high fence lined with razor wire encircled a bleak gravel courtyard. This led to an imposing façade reinforced with steel doors and windows boarded up with wicked bladed mesh. ‘They’ve brought in two deer carcasses, a dozen geese, six wild turkey, five sacks of potatoes, and about five crates of vegetables. Looks like our little piggy is not going to be dining alone.’

  ‘Well then, that begs the question of who will be joining him for dinner,’ I replied.

  ‘Little pig, little pig, let me come in …’ cooed Matthias sinisterly. Images of pigs and slavering wolves filled my brain. A chill flowed through my veins.

  If the Mayor was the little piggy, we knew exactly who the wolf was. We turned and smiled at each other. Venison was extremely rare and deer were confined to a few monitored deer parks for the sole use of the Mayor. Poaching was treason. The Mayor’s guest was so special that he had allowed two of his prize stags to be slaughtered and served on a dinner plate. Both Matthias and I knew that there would only be one type of guest that was high-ranking enough to warrant that – it was obvious that our little island of Brigadus was going to have some visitors from the Metropole. The wolf was at the door.