Divided (14 page)

28

Arys

I stare up at the sky. The sun has only just started rising, its red and orange colours merging with the dark blue. I lay and watch as the sky lightens, my thoughts a whirlpool of emotions and grief. I throw off my blanket and stand up. All of the camp is destroyed. Burnt down and scorched. The food tent burnt, so the survivors don’t have food. The foragers will have to be sent out, but by whom, I don’t know.

     I don’t want to be in the camp where there is so much death, so instead I walk purposelessly through the thinner patches of trees that surround the camp. In the warm light of the sunrise, I see someone through the trees, cutting wood into a long box. As I approach him, I recognise him as Joseph, easily the greatest carver in the tribe.

     ‘Arys,’ he beckons, after quickly looking up. ‘Could you help me with this?’

     I walk up to him, noticing how his black hair which is usually neat is now messy, with dirt and blood mingled in it. Sweat glistens on his dark skin and there are distinct shadows under his eyes.

     ‘I’m making a coffin for Papa,’ he says. ‘He asked me a long time ago that when he dies, he wants a proper funeral. Like they had when his father died, the type that they had in the Old World.’

     Joseph is only twenty years old and I silently wonder if he ever went to one. Papa told me all about them, of how the body of someone you love goes into a box that they will rest in until the end of time.

     ‘Arys?’ he asks, his deep voice sounding slightly demanding.

     ‘Oh, sorry,’ I say, my mind coming back to reality, and away from my thoughts of Papa. I’m supposed to be helping him.

     I hold the box up, supporting the weight of it as Joseph nails parts of it down. I watch carefully as he effortlessly works with the wood, turning it into something beautiful. Though beautiful is the worst word for it. I’ve seen so much death. I’ve grown up with death surrounding me, it shouldn’t affect me anymore. But it does, and every time anyone dies, I feel it.

     ‘When will the funeral be?’ I ask.

     ‘Today, at sunset,’ he says. ‘Everyone will come.’

Joseph finishes nailing and picks up a small bag of knives that he uses. He carefully engraves a soft, elegant pattern around what will be the lid. Suddenly, an idea hits me and I decide to ask him.

     ‘Could I carve an eagle into it?’

     He gives me a stunned look, before silently handing over the knife he was using. I take it in my hand and begin forming the outline of the eagle.

I carry the dead, burnt bodies to the river leading to the lake with the help of most of the survivors. This is traditionally how funerals go in this world. I knew the woman I’m holding now. Her name was Charlotte and she taught me how to craft walking sticks. Her straight, red hair falls down around her face as I carry her, the wind slowly blowing it around. It’s singed in places, and there’s a dark burn across her cheek. She was beautiful and I vividly remember her piercing blue eyes. As a child, she laughed with me and taught me that you should memorise eyes. Hers were the first I memorised, the patterns and colours blending together. Now her eyelids will hide that beauty forever. When we reach the river, I carry her through, deeper into the water and carefully rest her down. I hold onto her hand as the force of the water gently begins to pull her from me. Slowly, I let go of her cold fingers and watch as she floats away. For a second, it looks like she could be alive, swimming away from me and I hear a whisper of her voice in my head, the laughter we once shared. But the moment goes as quickly as it came and is replaced by a great feeling of grief. Not everyone is as lucky as Papa, and I wish that we could bury everyone the way Papa is being buried. They deserve more than this. I wade back to the bank and run along the grass following her. I take one last look at her red hair as her body goes over the waterfall, never for me to see again.

29

Kayra

I’ve been put in charge of sending the dead children down the river. It’s a job no one should have to deal with, and I hate doing it, but I’m the only one who can do it. I didn’t know any of the children whose bodies I carry, but the images in my mind of what their lives once were is enough to make this day the worst of my life. Most of the children’s bodies are still in trees, where they clung to the branches for life, expecting them to be safe. Instead, they were killed by the smoke and fire. I climb one of the trees. All the leaves are gone and it’s left with black branches crossing over each other. It makes it easier to see any bodies. After breaking through a small gap in the branches, I see someone a little bit higher than I am. I stand on a burnt branch that looks like it will crumble into ash at any second.

     Suddenly, the branch snaps and I fall a few inches before throwing my body forwards to hold onto the trunk. My face collides with a branch and tears block my vision as I painfully stare up. My eyes adjust as I look at the body above me. It’s a woman with her baby. I call out to them, although I know that they would already be dead. I take a deep breath and climb higher. I reach them and look at the woman. Her eyes are open and she’s staring into the sky. The baby is wrapped in a bloodied jacket and has a wooden lion pendant hanging from its neck. Arys made this and tears fall from my eyes, unrelated to the pain from hitting the branch. Sliding my hand under the baby’s head, preparing to carry him down, I notice that he’s still warm... still breathing! With a start, he opens his eyes and starts to cry. I laugh unexpectedly. He’s still alive! He’s alive and crying!

     ‘Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay now!’ I say to him, holding him close to me and rocking him gently side to side.

     I’m not sure how to look after children, but it seems to come naturally. In the Compound, we all grew up together. There was a “mother” with us, assigned to each room until we were old enough not to rely on one. I don’t remember our “mother”, or how she treated us. I struggle to climb down the tree carefully with the baby in my arms, but I slowly make my way down. When I reach the bottom, Kai’s brother, Zeke is stood close to me. He’s in the process of lifting up a bearded man whose entire front is stained with blood. He drops him instantly when he sees me with the baby.

     ‘Is he...?’ he asks shakily.

     I nod and look down at the baby again. He’s smiling up at me, unaware of the importance of what happened yesterday. Zeke smiles and looks at the baby.

     ‘He was in the tree with his mother,’ I tell him. His eyes light up briefly, but I shake my head. ‘She didn’t make it.’

     ‘Well I guess she died a brave death then. It’s thanks to her that he’s still alive,’ he says slightly shakily.

     I sit down on a fallen, blackened branch and breathe deeply, the scent of ash filling me. The baby in my arms is slowly falling asleep again, his eyes closing and his head drooping onto his shoulder.

     ‘What’s his name?’ I ask softly.

     Zeke sits next to me and stares at the ground.

     ‘Alaoden,’ he says.

     I look at Zeke’s face; he has a large burn spreading from the left side of his face, right down to his shoulder, underneath his singed t-shirt. I lightly touch the burn on his cheek, he doesn’t move away, but turns to face me.

     ‘You should get it treated, too,’ I say to him, withdrawing my hand. ‘It could get infected.’

     ‘I could say the same to you,’ he says, taking my wrist and pulling up the sleeve. He turns my arm over to reveal a large cut all the way up my arm. I quickly pull my arm out of his reach and pull my sleeve down over it.

     ‘It’s nothing,’ I say hastily. ‘I’ve had worse injuries and it looks worse than it is.’

     He stares at me for a few moments, before looking back at Alaoden, who is now asleep.

     ‘Maybe one of the mothers from the Tribe will adopt him,’ Zeke suggests, watching some of the mothers from the Tribe crying over their losses.

     ‘But for now, I will look after him,’ I say pointedly.

     ‘No offense, but it’s plain to see you have no idea what you’re doing with babies,’ he objects.

     ‘Oh it’s that obvious is it?’ I laugh.

     ‘No, not at all! You almost fooled me,’ he jokes. ‘Here, let me show you how to hold him properly at least.’

     He takes my arm and wraps it gently around Alaoden’s front. Then, taking more care, he takes my injured arm and wraps it underneath him.

     ‘How come you’re so good with kids?’ I ask him. ‘You don’t really look like the father type!’

     ‘I had little brothers, you learn stuff,’ he mutters while grinning broadly. ‘Maybe we both should look after him for a bit.’

     ‘You mean like he’s
our
kid?!’ I splutter. ‘No, I think I’ll be okay on my own, thanks.’

     Zeke laughs and after a few seconds, I join him. We’re sat on a burnt branch while people are mourning the dead and we can’t help ourselves but laugh at this small situation. Alaoden has given us hope!

     ‘No, not like that!’ Zeke says, still laughing to himself. ‘I just meant that since you obviously want to keep him, but you are so bad at looking after him, I should stick around to make sure you’re not causing him any sort of permanent damage!’

     ‘Fine,’ I laugh, trying to be quieter now, as Alaoden is shifting in his sleep. ‘I’ll let you do that.’

     Zeke carefully takes Alaoden off my lap and holds him gently in his arms. Alaoden opens his eyes and outstretches his arms to hold onto Zeke. I watch as Zeke laughs at him and holds him. Zeke’s different now from my first impression of him. When we came into the camp, he seemed cold and distant from us all, as if we were not welcome, but seeing him now with Alaoden in his arms, it’s hard not to see the person he really is. He notices me staring at him and brings Alaoden up to my face.

     ‘See her?’ he whispers to Alaoden. ‘Together we’re going to be taking care of you.’

     Alaoden laughs, as if knowing what Zeke had just said to him, and despite the horror surrounding me, this small laugh from a baby gives me a fresh wave of hope to face the remaining days here.

I take the bodies to the river while Zeke looks after Alaoden. We have decided that he’s our responsibility now. When I return from the river, I hear Zeke’s low voice tenderly singing a lullaby to Alaoden. It’s a song about the Hunters, one which I’ve heard Arys singing before. It sounds haunting, like everything is here.

30

Kai

Today has been the most tiring day of all our lives. Not only are we dealing with the agony of the events of yesterday, but we all have to clean the place up to hide traces for even more Hunters to track us. I lift the smouldering remains of a tent up, and drag it away. Zach, Kayra’s friend has been working with me all day and quickly rushes to help me carry it.

     ‘Thanks,’ I mutter, not ungratefully.

     ‘I don’t mean to offend you or anything,’ he starts. ‘But how are you coping with all of this? People are already looking to you as a leader.’

     I sigh heavily and walk back to where the tent stood with Zach following at my heel.

     ‘Can we please just work? Talking won’t help anything,’ I say morosely.

     We continue to work in silence, clearing up all of the burnt wood with some of the other Tribe members. Papa’s funeral is tonight at sunset. Without him, the Tribe is lost and we need a leader, so the leader will be picked once he’s buried. I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and turn to see Arys. She looks exhausted and I suspect she didn’t sleep last night either.

     ‘Kayra, Zeke and I are taking a break, do you two want to join us?’ she asks.

     ‘Sure,’ Zach says, abandoning his axe and walking to join Arys.

     ‘I’ll be there soon, just finishing up a few things,’ I say.

     ‘We’ll be at the river,’ Arys says, forcing a smile.

     I return the smile and watch as she sets off with Zach. After another ten minutes of clearing the debris, I follow their path down to the river.

When I find them, Zeke and Kayra are stood next to Alaoden’s cot, which is half burnt and blackened on one side.

     ‘He’ll be fine, the others will look after him,’ Zeke says, trying to convince Kayra to go.

     ‘Okay, I really don’t want to leave him though!’ Kayra replies, kissing Alaoden’s forehead.

     Nina and Iris run down the hill to meet us, both of them looking like they’re each other’s new best friend. We all set off further down the side of the river, walking slowly and listening to the calming sound of the running water. I close my eyes and try to remember what it was like only a month ago, before the fire, before Arys left, and before my life was changed suddenly. I can’t, and reopen my eyes, trying to hide the grief on my face.

     ‘What was all that about?’ Arys whispers to me, motioning subtly towards Kayra and Zeke.

     ‘Well,’ I say lightly, trying to adopt the attitude of Zach, who didn’t let the destruction affect him too much. ‘I believe that they have built a time machine.’

     ‘A time machine?’ Arys asks, with a slight smile.

     ‘Oh yes,’ I reply. ‘They built a time machine, went forward ten years and brought back their future baby!’

     ‘It took them
that
long to have a child together?’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘They’ve only just met and they’re already thick as thieves.’

     ‘Well, as you clearly didn’t want him, he went for someone who looks like you instead,’ I say teasingly.

     Arys laughs her real laugh, not the forced one she’s been using recently. I smile at her and the thought of Papa looking down on us laughing like this makes me feel for the first time since the fire, genuinely happy. The last promise I made Papa was to protect Arys. Now, that promise stands even more, as I hold Arys’s hand and squeeze tightly. She smiles up at me and we continue walking hand in hand.

     ‘I think they’ve adopted Alaoden though,’ Arys says more seriously, though the smirk on her face doesn’t vanish.