The Future's Mine (21 page)

‘I thought you said the gun was just an inanimate object?’ he teased. The irresistible urge to toss the gun into the waves came over me; but it would be stupid to abandon it now. It still had a duty to fulfil, defending us from the Highlanders.

‘What about your family? Aren’t they going to be mad when you don’t support their coup? What will they do when they find out that you’re not going to persuade me to be the martyr and you’re going to support the townsfolk over them?’

‘I made my choice a long time ago,’ he said baldly. ‘My family aren’t bad people … just misguided. But if they can’t accept the inevitable … well … they’ll have to deal with a townsfolk government or leave.’

‘And you’d be ok with that? Banishing them?’

His brow crumpled. ‘If it’s necessary …’

Chapter Twenty-four

There were little markers everywhere. Stuck into the soil and hanging off trees, the Highland island we landed at was covered in them. Shards of antlers, gnarled branches, and jagged upright rocks were flagpoles on which dyed flags were hoisted, inches above the ground, or dangling from twigs like a macabre imitation of bunting. Some of the tattered flags were white, some were yellow, others red, but occasionally the scene was punctuated with a black flag. Grimacing white skulls had been painted onto these black flags. Their meaning was clear and unclear all at once.
Danger
, they signified. But what sort of danger did they mark out?

‘Watch your step,’ Matthias said, before we left the boat. I instantly understood his wariness; the flags obviously signified that something was not quite right in the ground that lay underneath. I didn’t want to be the unfortunate test dummy who discovered what the danger was and therefore I tried to pick out a path through the flags before I set foot on that strange island. But it was not easy.

They littered the entire shoreline, making it difficult to land our boat and forcing us to dock against the serrated teeth of the cliff rocks. The hull groaned as it skimmed the jagged surface but Matthias refused to go near the most obvious and safe landing area because of the presence of so many red and black flags. There was a fluttering sound as the flags danced tauntingly in the breeze. It looked like an abandoned party – silence and misery where once there had been happiness. The Highland mountains provided the perfect eerie backdrop to this desolate party.  

‘Are they graves?’ asked Noah.

‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘If they were graves, why would the markers be coloured coded? No, I think the white ones mean we are safe, the yellow and red indicate that we are on increasingly dodgy territory, and black … well, look at the picture on it. I think we can be certain that nothing good will come of stepping near there.’

‘Booby-traps?’ said Matthias.

Grimmy was hopping nervously from foot to foot and was looking more agitated than I had ever seen him. He was twisting his waistcoat into knots with anxious fingers, fraying the hems and pulling out threads. ‘Who do you think planted the flags here? Are they on our side? They must be or else why would they be warning travellers of the danger? Unless it’s a trick and the black flags are really the safe flags … or maybe it’s a double bluff? Maybe –’

 ‘You’re wittering, Grimmy. Let’s just get on with it.’

 ‘The flags are obviously here for a reason and we will avoid them. Do
not,
I repeat,
not
go near them. And yes, Grimmy, I’m looking at you,’ said Matthias.

‘What do you think I am? An idiot?’ he protested.

We all went silent before I could contain it no longer and burst into laughter. ‘I didn’t know you were a mind-reader, Grimmy.’

He shook his fist at me but hope and optimism suddenly filled me up with a warm glow. It was amazing what a little Grimmy-baiting could do for my mood. Although we’d made a truce and I was now beginning to trust that he was wholeheartedly accepting of our plan, I still loved to rile him. It was like a sport.

I led the way, scrambling from the prow onto the rocks. It was hard going but at least we were avoiding the mysterious flags by choosing the most difficult and dangerous route onto the island. I wondered whether this was the purpose of the flags – to scare trespassers into taking the most dangerous route where they would fall to their death from the cliffs. The others followed me at a slower pace but I ignored them and kept my eyes on the prize – a pinewood forest further inland that provided shelter from the wind and, hopefully, shelter from the watchful eyes of the Highlanders.

I realised with a jolt of panic that I hadn’t actually bothered to use my binoculars to spy for signs of life before we landed. Preoccupied by trying to figure out what the flags were, I had completely neglected to fulfil even the most basic of survival necessities – scout out your terrain.
Idiot
. But it was too late now, we were all off the boat and the sooner we got to the shady shelter of the forest, the better. I didn’t like being exposed on the unsheltered rocks like a rat in a trap.

‘Come on, slow pokes,’ I hissed at the others and renewed my burst of energy. The ragged rocks cut into my hands and punctured my black trousers around my knees but I didn’t stop.

I ran the last couple of metres to the forest and felt the temperature drop about three degrees as I made it under the shaded canopy. It was as though all the colours and sounds had suddenly been muted. The weak winter sunshine passed through the filter of pine canopy and trickled through to the forest floor, a shadow of its former self. It was muffled and subdued. The thick carpet of pine needles acted as a silencer, absorbing the sounds of our footsteps and, worryingly, the footsteps of others. Everything just felt so
dense.
If I screamed, I doubted that anyone would hear it and it would just silently bounce off the ground and canopy like one of those old pinball machines, silent echoes bouncing but no sound.

But there were a few colours in there – the flags. I sighed in frustration – were they over the entire island? In the bleakness, it was difficult to see where they were. The white, yellow, and red ones managed to make themselves just about visible but the black ones were more coy; merging with the pine needles, sinking into the darkness. It would take forever for us to pick our way through here.

‘Let’s set up camp here for now and come up with a plan before we tackle what we are going to do,’ I called to the others.

Matthias and Noah swung the packs off their backs and began unravelling rolls of blankets to be spread on the ground. I gathered a few dry branches and collected some rocks to outline the campfire in order to keep the fire contained. The pine-needle carpet would go up like tinder if the fire was not properly enclosed. I didn’t think it would particularly endear us to the Highlanders if we were to arrive and immediately start torching their home. They would be even more likely to shoot us on sight if that happened.

‘Get the fire started,’ I said to Grimmy and threw my striking sticks to him.

I got out my binoculars and made a half-hearted attempt to make up for my lack of surveillance earlier. The shiny brass shone like fire in the gloom. Grimmy’s eyes glistened as he followed them. Turning my back on him, I remembered that I had pledged to corner him as soon as the time was right and grill him about all he knew about Regina. Now was not the right time. Perhaps once we had eaten and rested.

‘Pass the fish,’ I heard Noah call and I listened to the sounds of the newly born fire crackling around the skin of the saltwater fish we had caught on our journey today. The fish was large, fat, and had very hard scales, as though it was armoured. I had never seen anything like it before. Its eyes were mean and its jaw was rimmed with razor-sharp teeth; obviously a predator. The Flood had caused the old boundaries that separated the oceans and seas to disappear. No longer was there an Atlantic Ocean, a Mediterranean Sea, an Irish Sea, a North Sea, or even an English Channel. The waters around us had just become The Ocean. One vast ocean that spread across the globe, Pacific water mixing with Atlantic mixing with Indian mixing with Arctic.

Creatures once bounded by depth, temperature, and currents were now free to roam as they pleased thanks to the Metropole’s deliberate meddling in the Arctic. The fishers of Brigadus would sometimes haul in a weird snub-nosed dolphin or a strange shark with whisker-like feelers on its snout and hang them by the tail in the docks for all to gawp at. On these occasions, the catch was divided up amongst the people before the Parrots found out, first come first serve, and I always made sure I was near the front of the queue. I had tasted the flesh of the Pacific, the meat of the Mediterranean, and the fruits of the Indian Ocean. I wondered where the fish we were eating today had once called home.

Musing about the origin of the fish, I was only half-heartedly paying attention to what my eyes were seeing through the binoculars. My eyes were glazed when I suddenly registered movement. Not fast, not urgent. But it was definitely the indistinct blur of a shape passing before my eyes and disappearing behind a clump of trees.
What on earth was that?

I took the binoculars from my eyes to gain a larger perspective but there was nothing. Everything looked calm, silent, and unmoving.
Perhaps I’m going mad
, I thought. But as I was half-way towards raising the binoculars to my eyes again, I saw it.

A fluid motion as the blur emerged from one tree to disappear behind another group of trees. And it was
huge.
Even from this distance, I could tell that it towered over all of us, including Matthias who was part-man/part-giant anyway. I backed towards the others, my eyes on where I last saw it disappear.

‘Noah,’ I hissed.

He instantly tensed at my strained tone. ‘What is it? Are we being watched?’

‘You’ve seen it, too?’

‘Seen what? I’ve not seen anything but I can
sense
that we are being watched. Where is it?’

 I pointed carefully towards the trees and Matthias stood up to get a better view. ‘I see nothing,’ he said.

‘Noah, pass me my gun from my bag,’ I hissed.

He hesitated.

‘Noah,
please
. We need that gun.’

I watched him flinch as he reluctantly pulled the golden gun from the bag and passed it to Matthias, who passed it to me. I clicked the  safety catch off and inched forward.

‘Come out,’ I called. ‘We’re not trespassers; we’re not here to harm you. Come out, now.’

There was a brief shuffling, as though the thing behind the trees was shy and was deciding whether or not to come out. I advanced further, being careful to skirt the flags, most of which were yellow and red, although a few black ones were nearly hidden some ten metres away.

‘Come out!’ I called again. ‘We’re not going to hurt you!’

I bit back a grimace as I realised how hypocritical this was, considering that I had a gun in my hand.

I saw the shadow of the hider peep out and, encouraged, I changed tack. ‘I’ll put the gun down, see? The gun is going on the floor, I won’t use it.’ I hesitantly bent down to place the gun on the floor but the moment that I did I knew, regrettably, that it was a mistake.

An animal cry broke the muted air, but not from the direction I expected. It came from the side of me and galloped through the trees, hurtling towards me before I had time to turn. The full weight of a one-tonne stag hit me and I was catapulted through the air, ragdoll arms and legs swinging as though on hinges. As I slammed into the ground, my surroundings lurched dizzyingly and there was a ringing in my ears that was tinny and shrill.

From my position, I saw that the creature that had been hiding behind the trees was in fact another stag and had emerged to join the fight. I tried to get up but my body failed me. My arms and legs would not obey my commands. Panic rose in me as I realised that I was a sitting target. I raised my woozy head and looked for the others to signal for help. My world spun in loopy swirls and I could hear shouts but could not make out what was being said. Forcing my eyes to focus, I saw Grimmy attempting to clamber up a tree, his sinewy arms and legs hugging the trunk with a determination that was most impressive. Nothing was going to prompt him to come down from his safe hiding place. That man could take care of himself but would take no care of others. So much for him being part of our team. I looked around for Matthias and Noah.

Matthias was lying on the floor. I could see blood flowing freely from a gaping wound on his side. I was surprised by how quickly he had changed colour; only a few minutes ago he was pink with the effort of climbing up the cliff but now he was icy white. He had been gored by the stag’s massive antlers and knocked unconscious by the weight of the blow when he landed. At least,
I hoped he was just unconscious.
His eyes were closed and his mouth open. A trickle of blood tracked a path down his forehead. I could hear a commotion on the other side of me but I could not stop looking at him.

‘Matt,’ I croaked and tried to drag myself towards him. ‘Matt?’

No reply, not even a flicker of his eyes. He needed the blood flow to be stemmed quickly or else … what? Death? I felt sick. I couldn’t even bare to think of it so I focused on giving myself small commands.
Now you will sit up. Now you will wiggle your toes.
It was painful but bearable so I figured that my legs were not broken, just battered and temporarily stunned into immobility.

A cry wrought the air and I turned to see Noah leaping out of the way of a stag just in time for it to crash into a tree trunk. The stag stumbled and tottered, on the verge of concussion, so great was the force with which it slammed into the tree. Noah grasped the opportunity to make a plan whilst the stags were temporarily recovering. I watched his stern face scan his surroundings for an advantage but really, I could see none. Optimism is usually my default mode but, at that moment, I experienced nothing but despair. My right-hand man down, myself immobilised, and my other ally scarpering up a tree … well, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that I genuinely feared for us.

I couldn’t watch as Noah became our last line of defence.
If I have to lie here and watch him die …
I pushed the thought from my head. I felt a hot tear run down my cheek but the pain in my arms and ribs prevented me from wiping it away. I was sure my ribs were broken. I watched the life slowly ebbing from Matthias and cursed Grimmy for thinking only of himself.

Noah’s expression was pained.  But he was not beaten yet. I watched him straighten to his full height, draw a deep breath, and close his eyes. The panic I felt fell off me like I was shedding a skin. He was magnificent. I suddenly saw a flash of the man he would become when it was demanded of him; brave, loyal, heroic, and calm. He would save us; I knew it now, I had always known it, I had always known that he had bravery that I hadn’t. I had the fighting spirit; the bluster, the temper, the spontaneity – the things that
look
impressive but are really cover-ups for my lack of control. Surface things. Whereas it ran through his every vein, quietly but stoically.