A City Called Smoke: The Territory 2 (19 page)

Again. He had lost her again.

“Lynn!” Squid called, but there was no answer. She was gone.

“Keep moving,” the clergyman behind him said.

“Where are they taking her?”

The clergyman just looked at him and shrugged. “I said keep moving.”

The clergyman pushed him and Squid stumbled again, landing heavily on his knees. He grimaced against the pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. Somehow he knew there would be no going after Lynn this time. She was gone, and even if she hadn’t told him so herself, he knew he would have to go on without her. Right then, it seemed an impossible task.

This hurt all the more because once again they had parted on less than perfect terms. He loved her. That’s what he wished he’d told her. Not just the type of love that Nim would claim he had for her, the type of love that made you want to kiss and hold hands and act like morons. He loved her deeper than anyone else could. Maybe that was why he had reacted so badly to this thing between her and Nim. He just wanted Lynn to acknowledge that what they had was special, it was forged in spending long hours at the Academy with no one to rely on but each other, in the stinking heat of battle with ghouls, and in facing the ultimate powers of the land, together.

He wished he could go back and do things differently. He knew that he had overreacted, or at least reacted in a way that made it seem like he wanted all or nothing with Lynn, but that’s not how it was, that’s not how he wanted it to be. If he had known she would be taken away from him forever he wouldn’t have made such a big deal about her relationship with Nim. He would have made the most of the time they’d had left together.

Squid looked back to see Nim struggling against the Holy Order, trying to fight his way back to the corridor Lynn had been taken down, but the clergymen were overpowering him, pushing him forward.

“Not again!” he was saying savagely as he fought, almost howling. “No!”

In that moment Squid didn’t feel jealous of Nim, didn’t feel angry that Nim was angry. Instead, he felt proud that Lynn had someone else who would fight for her. She deserved that. She deserved to have people who would fight for her as she had fought for others, as she had fought for him time and time again.

Eventually, once Nim seemed to have realized the futility of his situation and ceased thrashing, they were led along the wooden walkway that spiralled down to the bottom of the prison. The crowd of prisoners in their blue uniforms parted as the Holy Order strode through, red cloaks flicking and floating around their legs, and Mr. Stix, Mr. Stownes, Squid and Nim between them.

Squid saw the prisoners watching them, following them across the floor as if sizing up the newcomers. The four remaining companions were led to a door in the far side of the space. As they approached it a voice bellowed out from the top of the central tower.

“Exercise time is over. You have two minutes to return to your cells.”

The prisoners began to move to the wooden walkways and climb toward their cells. Squid saw that some wore chains and others did not.

The lead clergyman, a short man with brown hair cropped close around his large ears, unlocked the door in front of them and pushed it open.

“In there,” he said.

Passing through the door Squid found himself in a sort of storeroom. Shirts, pants, shoes, all parts of the identical blue prison uniform were stacked on shelves along the walls on either side of them. A Sister dressed in a black dress similar to that Priestess Regina had been wearing looked up from where she sat at a desk writing in a large leather-bound book with a pen and red ink.

Squid thought the Sister was in her late thirties or early forties, but it was difficult to tell because she showed little signs of age. The corners of her eyes were wrinkled and she wore circular wire-rimmed glasses which she removed as she looked at the group. Her hair, a mousy brown, was tied back in a bun. There was something about her that Squid felt relieved to see, a kind of welcoming in her eyes; maybe not all the Black Sisters would be as ruthless as Priestess Regina.

Five of the clergymen had entered the room with them. Four stood in pairs either side of the door in defensive stances, obviously there to guard them. The short clergyman who had been in front of the group stepped forward.

“Sister Constance,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you, but we have some new arrivals.”

“No problem, Clergy-Lieutenant …” The Sister let her words hang in the air.

“Werther, Sister,” the Clergyman said. “Lieutenant Werther.”

“Werther,” Sister Constance repeated, as if testing the name to see whether it fit the man. She pushed her wooden chair back and rose. “I wasn’t informed of a prison shipment today.”

“No, Sister,” Clergy-Lieutenant Werther said. “This is the group the High Priestess sent word about.”

With that Sister Constance quickly turned her attention to Squid, Nim, Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes.

“The girl,” Werther said, “Lynnette Hermannsburg, is already on her way back to Alice. Priestess Regina saw to that herself.”

They were sending Lynn back to Alice. She would stand trial for treason and would certainly face death at the hands of the High Priestess. Squid’s blood ran cold in his veins. He felt suddenly disconnected from the world around him. Lynn was going to be killed.

How had they known they were coming here? Who had even known?
Archibald
,
Squid thought,
he must have been working for the High Priestess. He told us to come to Pitt.
Lynn had been right all along. He shouldn’t have trusted anyone. He should have listened to her. Now he had got her killed.

Sister Constance nodded, but she did not look away from Squid. “This is the boy?” she asked.

“Yes, Sister.”

“And who are these others?” Sister Constance waved her hand at Mr. Stix, Mr. Stownes and Nim.

“Unsure as yet, Sister,” Clergy-Lieutenant Werther said. “They arrived with them, hired help perhaps?”

“Nobody hired me,” Nim said. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m a Nomad. I live free on this land. You can’t keep me here.”

Nim looked as though he was going to continue but Werther turned and struck him across the face with the back of a gloved fist.

“Silence,” he said. “No one is free but by the grace of Glorious God the Redeemer.”

“Praise be to the Pure,” Sister Constance said.

“Praise be to the Pure,” Clergy-Lieutenant Werther echoed, in unison with the four clergymen near the door.

Nim did not speak again.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Werther,” Sister Constance said. “You may leave us. I will have them dressed, allocated and issued their cells and work orders.”

The clergy-lieutenant nodded. “Very good, Sister,” he said as he turned and left the room.

Sister Constance looked at each of them appraisingly. “Unchain them,” she said.

The four remaining clergymen moved forward, three of them standing close by as the fourth used a key to remove the clasps around the prisoners’ arms and legs and left the heavy chains on the floor nearby.

“Do not get any ideas about trying something now that your chains are removed,” Sister Constance said. “You would find the result unpleasant.”

As the manacles dropped from Squid’s arms he rubbed at his wrists, which were red and chafed where the metal had been digging into his skin.

“Remove your clothes,” Sister Constance said when they had all been freed.

“What?” Nim said. “Here?”

Sister Constance almost seemed to sigh. “Yes, here,” she said. “Remove your clothes or the clergymen behind you will remove them for you. Just to your underwear will be sufficient.”

Sister Constance did not avert her eyes. Squid began undoing the buttons of his shirt. This didn’t seem right. He didn’t like getting undressed in front of anyone, but a Sister was even worse. He let his shirt drop to the ground behind him.

“Stop,” Sister Constance said, walking toward Squid. “What is that?”

Squid’s hand shot to his key. He realized he should have hidden it, but he was so used to the feeling of it against his skin that he’d forgotten it was even there.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just a key.”

Sister Constance reached out and took Squid’s key in her fingers. Without thinking Squid grabbed her wrist.

“No!” he said.

Before he could react two Holy Order clergymen were upon him. One took hold of his arm, the other grabbed him from behind in a kind of choke hold. Squid felt the pressure of the man’s forearm against his throat. He gasped for breath but nothing but a raspy rattle came in. His lungs were already burning just at the thought of not getting the air they needed. He let go of Sister Constance’s arm, putting his hands up, submitting completely to the clergyman’s hold, but the man kept hold of him. Points of light began to burst all across the top of Squid’s vision. His face felt so full of pressure that it might explode. His lungs begged and screamed for air, his diaphragm working to no avail.

“Stop,” Sister Constance said. “That’s quite enough.”

Squid felt the pressure around his throat release. He dropped, landing on his already bruised kneecaps, but this time he ignored the pain. It was only air that mattered. He breathed deeply, sucking glorious oxygen into his lungs. They almost hurt as they expanded and contracted. Breathing was something you took for granted every moment of every day, until the few seconds when you think you’re never going to breathe again. His neck hurt, his Adam’s apple felt as though it had been crushed.

Sister Constance eyed the clergyman before turning her attention back to Squid. She moved to him, grabbing the top of his arm and lifting him to his feet. Squid, still breathing deeply, looked up at her. The Sister stared back at him, her face like carved stone, unmoving, showing no semblance of emotion. Squid had no idea what she was thinking. She reached out and took the key once again. With her other hand she took hold of the string behind his neck, lifting it over his head. Squid flinched again, wanting to grab it, wanting to stop her taking his key away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw flowing red cloaks move toward him again.

“It’s fine,” Sister Constance said. “He won’t try anything again, will you, Squid?”

“Please,” Squid said. “Please, it’s nothing.”

“You seem awfully concerned for something that means nothing,” Sister Constance said, examining the key as it rested on her palm. “Where did you get this?”

“My mother,” Squid said. “She gave it to me.”

“Who is your mother?” Sister Constance said, returning her evaluating gaze to Squid’s face. Like all Sisters, Squid felt as though she could see through him, or at least deep into the many layers of himself.

“Nobody,” Squid said. “She was just a farmer’s wife. She’s dead now.”

Sister Constance stared at him for a moment longer before speaking to the clergymen in the room.

“I believe Priestess Regina needs to be made aware of this,” she said. “Hold them here. I will send Sister Galah to prepare them for their stay with us.”

Sister Constance looked from the key in her hand to Squid one last time before she made her way to the door, her black dress swishing from side to side, just brushing the floor as she moved. Squid felt as if he were now truly undressed. His key was gone. The only thing he had left of his parents, gone. That was that, then. The two things that had been constants in his life, the two things he needed in their own way were both gone: his best friend and his link to the past. Even with Mr. Stix, Mr. Stownes and Nim in the room with him, and in a prison surrounded by who knew how many people, Squid felt utterly and completely alone.

There was no way Squid could sleep. He lay on the thin mattress on the bottom bunk of his cell. He’d never really been accustomed to comfortable bedding but this was worse than usual, a bed that was in parts lumpy, squishy and hard. It would have been better suited to serving as a torture device, though, he realized, this was a prison, so maybe that’s exactly what it was.

His chest almost burned with the absence of his key. He was amazed that not having it against his skin could produce what felt like physical pain. Nim was asleep in the bed above him. The two of them had been placed in the same cell. Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes were in the cell next door.

After Sister Constance had left a new Sister had replaced her, a pale soft-spoken woman named Whitney who had issued them each with blue uniforms, written their information in the big leather book on the desk and had roughly sewn a numbered label to each of their shirts. Sister Constance had never returned, and Squid had no idea what had happened to his key.

Squid was staring up at the dark wooden slats on the underside of Nim’s bed and considering their current predicament, the feeling of hopelessness that had settled over him growing heavier with the realization that they were never getting out of here. The prison was dark. The lights had been dimmed to a dull flicker. There seemed to be a pattern to the lighting. During the day they had been at full brightness, though that had done little to illuminate the space. At night the prison was darkened to replicate night. The lamps were really the only thing that allowed anyone down here to know what time it was. His heart sank even further when he thought they might never see the sky again. That was when he heard a rattle in the lock of the cell door. He looked up.

The figure at the door wore a black dress, the garb of a Black Sister, as well as a thick black shawl that had been pulled up over her head as a kind of hood. She blended into the darkness eerily well, but the diffuse glow from the nearest lamp cast enough light on her face for Squid to see that it was Sister Constance.

“Nim,” Squid whispered, hoping he didn’t have to face the Black Sister alone. “Nim, are you awake?”

“Hmmmph,” Nim mumbled from the bunk above, the slats squeaking as he rolled over.

“Squid,” Sister Constance said. “Be quiet. Don’t attract any attention. I need to be quick.”

The Black Sister entered the cell and pulled the door shut behind her, though she didn’t lock it. Squid sat up and retreated nervously back on the bunk as Sister Constance sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her hood down. She reached into a pocket on her dress and removed Squid’s key, letting it dangle before his face.

“Tell me where you got this,” she said.

“I told you,” Squid answered, “it was my mother’s.”

For the first time, Sister Constance’s face changed from its expressionless flatness to something else. She lowered the key to her lap. It took Squid a moment to see that she was crying. Her mouth was pulled tight, her eyes glassy and wet. She reached out and touched Squid’s face, running her fingers gently over his cheek and then brushing his thick black fringe back across his forehead.

“My god,” she said, her voice breathy and strained, the tears now running freely down her face, leaving long, wet, shining runs. “It’s really you, isn’t it? My Samuel, it’s really you.”

“What?” Squid said. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t know what this Sister was talking about. But then, if Squid didn’t know what she meant, why were tears streaming down his face too? He had felt an affinity with her when he’d first seen her, had seemed to know he was safe around her. He felt like he knew this woman. Sister Constance grabbed him in her arms and pulled him against her, and then he was sure. This was her. His entire life he’d thought she was dead, had been told that she was dead, and had thought himself silly for never quite believing it. But he’d been right all along. All those nights in the outhouse on Uncle’s farm, all those nights dreaming that she would one day come for him hadn’t been flights of fancy. Here she was. Squid tucked his face into the space between Constance’s neck and her shoulder and began to sob, as quietly as he could, into her black dress.

“My mum,” Squid said, choking on his own emotions. “You’re my mum.”

Sister Constance pulled away and held him at arm’s length. She was smiling, fresh tears all over her face, but her voice broke as if she was beginning to laugh. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. I thought this day would never come.”

“You’re alive. But …” Squid began. His mind felt as if it had exploded, as if it had expanded and expanded and was trying to fit a whole universe of new information inside it. “Why … How are you here? Why did you … why did you leave me?”

“No, Samuel,” Sister Constance said as she wrapped him in her arms again. “No, no, no. I never left you. I never left you. You were taken from me. He took you from me.”

“Who?”

“The Administrator,” she said, still holding him tightly. “Your father.”

It was Squid who pulled away this time. “What?” he said. “My father was a farmer.”

Sister Constance shook her head. “No, Samuel,” she said. “No. Your father is the Administrator. He and I, we had a relationship we shouldn’t have. I was young, too young. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was in training to be a Sister. He visited the cathedral. He was handsome and we talked. He sat with me at dinner. He said it wouldn’t matter. When he found out I was pregnant he had me exiled, cast out to the Black Sisters, and when you were born he took you away. He wanted you gone, dead, I think, but Knox Soilwork told me you would be given to a nice family, a farming family in the Outside. I never saw you again, but I never stopped thinking about you, Samuel. I always hoped that someone, one day, I would see you again.”

“Why do you keep calling me Samuel?” Squid said.

“That’s your name,” Sister Constance said. “At least, that’s the name I gave you.”

Samuel. Samuel. Squid rolled the name over in his mind. It was a perfectly reasonable name but the shape of it didn’t seem to fit him. His name wasn’t Samuel, it was Squid. Squid seemed a much better name for him, even if it was Uncle and Aunt who had given it to him.

“My name is Squid,” he said.

Sister Constance looked at him and then nodded. “I suppose it is.”

Squid didn’t know what else to say. He ran the revelation through his mind but it wouldn’t stick. It bounced around the inside of his mind, a slippery thought he couldn’t grasp hold of. His mother was alive, and she was here with him right now. His father was alive, and he was the Administrator. That seemed to be the part of this whole thing that was the hardest to grab on to. How could he be the son of the Administrator? He had met that man and not felt anything but fear. He was the man who’d been responsible for the murder of his best friend’s father. He couldn’t be that man’s son.

“I’m not the Administrator’s son,” Squid said, hoping that his mother would correct that statement, but she didn’t.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid you are, and you’re older than his legitimate son Bren, so that makes you heir to the title of Administrator. You are next in line to run the government of the Central Territory – not that it seems to exist anymore now that the High Priestess has seized control in Alice.”

“But,” Squid said, “I don’t want to be Administrator.”

“No,” Sister Constance said. “I wouldn’t want you to be either, but I wanted you to know that’s who you are. Whether you decide to follow that path or not is your choice.”

“I already have a path,” Squid said. “I am supposed to go to Big Smoke and find the weapon that will destroy the ghouls.”

“Yes,” Sister Constance said. “I know the prophecy, but a journey out here is terribly dangerous.”

Squid nodded. “I know,” he said, “but it’s what I want to do.” He thought about Lynn telling him to keep going, to finish what they’d started, to do it for her. “It’s what I need to do.”

“How will you find it?”

“I’ll help him,” Nim’s voice came from the top bunk. He peeked his head over the side to look. “I’ll help get him there.”

“Did you hear all that?” Squid asked.

Nim nodded. “I heard enough.”

Sister Constance looked up at Nim. “And who are you?”

Squid looked from his mother to Nim. “He’s my friend.”

Maybe for the first time since they’d first met on the bio-truck, Nim smiled at Squid. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it was a start.

“And those two men who were with you,” Sister Constance said. “Who are they?”

“They’re helping us too."

“Why?”

“I don’t actually know,” Squid said. Saying it out loud had made him realize that he really didn’t know enough about them. He thought about Lynn then, about how she was probably right to want to know everything she could about people, about how she didn’t trust anyone. With her gone he would need to be like that. She would never have allowed them to be captured like this.

“I don’t think you should trust them,” Sister Constance said.

“I don’t,” said Squid, “but we need them.” And that would be the truth from now on.

“The High Priestess Patricia has ordered us to keep you here,” Sister Constance said, “to make sure you are never able to fulfil the prophecy of Steven.” She sighed. “I don’t understand her reason for this. Why would she, the High Priestess of the Church, stand in the way of the word of the prophet? It doesn’t seem right. We need to follow the Book of the Word, and if now is the time when we can cleanse the world of the ghouls, if God believes we have been punished long enough, then it is not even the place of the High Priestess to stand in the way. The prophecy must be fulfilled.” She stared into Squid’s eyes. “I just wish it wasn’t you.”

Sister Constance looked down and extended her hand. Squid’s key, her key, sat in her palm. She absent-mindedly ran her index finger over it.

“This has been in our family a long time, Squid, since the time of the Reckoning. My father told me it was special, though no one really knows why. I asked Knox Soilwork to ensure it was left with you. I only took it away from you before because if I hadn’t, someone else would have. It was what made me sure of who you are.” She reached out and touched Squid’s hair again. “Although I already had my suspicions.” She smiled. “You have your father’s hair, did you know?”

Sister Constance held the key’s string in a loop and dropped it over his head. Almost instinctively, Squid gripped the key again as it fell around his neck. It felt good to have it back.

“This is yours to keep,” Sister Constance said, “whatever it opens.”

“So,” Nim said, interrupting the moment, “you gonna help us get out of this place?”

Sister Constance nodded. “I can sneak you to the surface, but we must leave now.”

The Black Sister, Squid’s mother, rose from the bed. Squid pushed the scratchy woollen blanket aside and Nim dropped from the top bunk to follow them out of the cell. As they exited Sister Constance unlocked the door of the neighboring cell, the one containing Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes. The old hinges creaked. Mr. Stix, knowing better than to speak, gave Squid a questioning look as they walked free. Squid shot back what he hoped was an “I’ll explain later” look.

Sister Constance led them along the walkway. As they passed in front of other cells some of the prisoners stirred at the footsteps on the wooden walk.

“Hey, where you takin’ them at this time?” one of the prisoners called from his cell.

Sister Constance stopped and turned to look into the darkness of his cell. “Unless you want to be taken to the colosseum waiting area too, I suggest you keep quiet.” She spoke loudly enough that those in the cells around could hear. Squid didn’t know what a colosseum was but it seemed it was enough to keep all the prisoners quiet.

Once they’d turned down one of the dark corridors leading away from the cells Sister Constance spoke to them again.

“I’m afraid we cannot retrieve your equipment,” she said.

“My hat and my gun,” said Mr. Stix. “Surely we could make a quick stop.”

“We won’t have time, and the risk is too great that we will be seen by another Sister or one of the Order.”

Mr. Stix shook his head, looking at his feet. “That’s a shame,” he said. Squid wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had begun to cry. “A damn shame.”

Mr. Stownes placed his enormous dinner plate–sized hand on Mr. Stix’s shoulder.

“How are you going to get us out of here without them seeing?” Squid said.

“There are maintenance tunnels for the gas piping and mechanicals. I have an access key. There’s venting on the surface.”

“The smoke stacks?” Squid asked.

Sister Constance nodded. “They only burn bio-fuel at certain times of the day and I don’t think they do it at all in the middle of the night.”

She led them down a winding corridor. The gas lamps on the walls were spaced so far apart and had been turned down to burn so dimly that it was all but impossible to see where the next turn in the tunnel was, but Sister Constance seemed not to hesitate or slow her pace at all. Squid realized that she must know this place intimately, since she’d been living here for as long as he’d been alive. He felt a momentary pang of guilt, as if it were his fault that his mother had been forced to live the last sixteen years as a Black Sister. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t to blame, but he still felt somehow responsible.

Sister Constance unlocked and opened a heavy door set into the wall of the corridor. Behind it was an open space, a thin tunnel that ran vertically through the rock. Set against the far wall was a tangle of gas and fuel pipes, and beside them was a ladder. Squid poked his head into the space. The ladder extended both upward and downward, vanishing into darkness in both directions.

“That ladder leads to the stacks,” Sister Constance said. “There’ll be a door in the side and another ladder that will take you to the surface. When you reach the top, head back toward the river. You can make your way around the guard towers and stay out of sight if you remain below the riverbank.”

“Are there other people living out here?” Squid said. “Are there other people beyond the fence? Is Big Smoke really out there?”