The Raft: A Novel (18 page)

I don’t know
, he said softly.
Maybe we aren’t waiting for anything. Maybe they believe The Renascence is some kind of defence against this thing in our dreams. A way of hiding? I don’t know. As I said, it is only a feeling, but this feeling is growing in me. I’m sorry, Mr. Kayle. We shouldn’t talk about it, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

Gideon got up, took a few steps away from the tent and looked up at the sky. His face was bathed in the sharp morning light. The strengthening wind moved through his dreadlocks, causing them to swing a little. His square jaw was clenched tightly, his thick arms flexed and mapped in long descending loops of veins.

Gideon, does the name Jack Turning mean anything to you?

Gideon turned to you.
Who?

Have you ever heard the name Jack Turning?

Jack Turning?
Gideon shook his head.
I can’t say that I have. Who is he?

I’m not sure exactly. Never mind. It’s probably not important.

You dusted the back of your pants and walked to Gideon’s side. You told him then that, as he had guessed, something had happened and you needed to tell him all about it. But you couldn’t do it there. Not in the middle of the commune. You insisted on going for a walk.

The two of you moved away from the commune and made your way to the water’s edge. The waves were rough and foaming white, rolling thickly and rushing up the sand. A cool mist was thrown up and against your hot skin as you walked ankle deep in the icy froth. When you were far enough away, you told Gideon about the situation. You told him about Jai-Li, the child, the escape, and the oar that was still needed. He listened intently and didn’t say a word. When you had finished, he said nothing. He stood and stared out over the ocean. His expression at that point was difficult to read; you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then he turned to you and said
Come,
leading you away, back to the commune.

Gideon already had an oar that only needed to be repaired. You and he went together up the mountain to Jai-Li’s tent. On the way up you thought about what Gideon had said about the smoking mirror and wondered whether it could be true: were you being watched by that thing in your dreams? Did it really exist? Was it coming for you, for all of you, and what did it want?

You led Gideon up through the crooked trunks of trees and the thick green underbrush, carrying the oar on your shoulder. Jai-Li’s tent appeared in the clearing, beyond the rough thicket. As you and Gideon emerged into it, Theunis sprang up from the forest floor, rattled. He eyed Gideon cautiously, but all Gideon did was bow to him before making his way to the tent.

You rapped twice on the canvas, Jai-Li told you to come in, and you unzipped the tent. You introduced her to Gideon. He assured her he’d do what he could to help, and the two of you stepped out and joined Theunis.

For the two days that followed, the three of you took turns bringing food and water and keeping watch.

One time when Theunis appeared, however, he was accompanied by another person: Angerona. Theunis explained that he’d been halfway up the mountain when he’d seen her behind him. She’d followed him from the commune; there had been nothing he could do.

There were four of you now, more than had initially been intended, but you’d do what you could. And Angerona, it turned out, proved to be far more useful than you had thought she would. She was small and quiet, the perfect member of your group to slip away and return with supplies when necessary.

And all this time, none of you was called up to the white house on the hill. There were no hints that anyone had a clue what you were up to. You were getting away with it. The plan was working.

On the third day, you were finally ready to get Jai-Li and her child off the beach. Gideon had fixed the oar and a long, safe route had been mapped to the cove.

On the morning of her departure, a perfectly dense, white mist had fallen. It was difficult not to see it as a sign—the cloak of a guiding force intending to ensure safe passage. A sign was just what you needed, so you took heart from it, and set off.

You walked down the mountain, one behind the other. Ange-rona led the group, moving nimbly between the small rocks and tricky dips. Gideon and Theunis carried the boat and you had the oars on your shoulder.

The bottom of the slope disappeared into a murky white mist. A nocturnal bird hooted its last for the night. Jai-Li checked on her baby. He was fastened to her back with a towel and sleeping soundly. She peeked over her shoulder at you and slowed the pace of her walking until she was beside you.

She said:
Kayle, I need to tell you the rest of my story.

You looked at Theunis behind you and Gideon ahead. Nobody reacted to her words.

Jai-Li’s face appeared older and paler, as if her blood had been drained out overnight. Her eyelids opened and closed slowly. She was exhausted, obviously. But she walked on, putting one foot in front of the other with dogged determination.

Kayle, I need to tell you what happened next.

The first escape

S
tupid, stupid animals,
ringing in my ears. My father’s last words, screaming, thundering in my head. I was terrified. Excited. Frustrated. But still, from the cloudy chaos of my thoughts and emotions, one impulse shot out like a beam of light:
it’s time to leave, right now.

I ran from my father’s office and never looked back. The tube took me back down the tower and I sat and watched the floors flicker before me. I was breathing so violently I thought I’d pass out. The faster the tube raced down the tower, though, the greater the distance created between my father and me, and the better I felt. My mind began to calm, my breathing steadied. My fear drained away and by the time I reached our floor, I was already thinking about what I needed to do.

I ran across the boulevard and burst into the house. I hurtled through the rooms, grabbing what I could, what I thought I’d need. I had no idea what that was, though; I hadn’t a clue where I was going, what challenges would be waiting on the outside. So I filled my rucksack with nothing but warm clothing, a two-litre bottle of water, dehydrated food cubes, and the only printed photograph of my mother in the house. I double-checked that her letter was still in my back pocket, swung the rucksack onto my back, and took a brief moment to look about the cold and hollow house.

There had been life there once. I could still hear my mother’s laughter as we chased each other through the rooms. I could still smell her perfume—a trick of memory; I had long been denied her scent. Honestly, I told myself, there truly is nothing left here of home, no echo off the walls. The glints of light off the metallic surfaces, the glowing neon of the visual-glass, the drone of the air conditioner—they would buzz and shine on forever, irrespective of whether anyone was there.

I ran from my childhood home. At the tube stop, a man was waiting for a ride. He was wearing a grey coat and hat, reading off his palm-plate. I slowed my run to a nonchalant walk. I waited next to him without looking up, but could see from the corner of my eye that he had dipped his head in my direction.

You’re going to be in big trouble, young lady
, he said.

My hand tightened on the strap of my rucksack, my face filled with heat, my breath lodged like a stone in my throat. He didn’t know, I thought; he couldn’t know!
Your teacher isn’t going to be happy you’re late for school
, he added, returning his gaze to his palm-plate.

I snapped up at him, saying that I didn’t go to school. Of course, that made him realise he was speaking to the daughter of the CEO. I regretted having said anything. I should have tried to leave without being recognised, but even at that point I suppose there was a remnant of childish pride left, of loyalty to my family’s name.

Ms. Huang! My apologies.
He tipped his hat.
I didn’t recognise you. Of course you don’t. No, of course not.You have a lovely day.

The tube doors hissed and parted. I smiled uneasily at him and went inside. He came in after me but I sat two rows above him, staring at the top of his head all the way down. I expected him to look up and ask me some question I couldn’t answer, like
So where are you off to?
or
Does your father know you’re here?
but a few floors later, he exited and I was taken by myself to the bottom of the tower.

I spotted the red button across from me, climbed on my seat, leaned across the tube, and stretched my arm out to push it. My chair clicked, whirred, and began its rise to the top of the tube, its descent on the opposite side.

The doors to the secret floor slid away from each other, and the corridor rolled out ahead. I stepped out cautiously and my small shoes clacked on the tiled floors. The doors closed behind me and the tube raced back up.

The sound of my breath was louder and harder in the narrow corridor. It seemed longer and wider, colder and more daunting, like one in a dream that would continue to lengthen no matter how quickly I ran along it. I wished my mother was with me. I dreaded having to continue all by myself.

I remembered being down in the corridor with my mother that first time.

But I
hadn’t
been with my mother. The robot had been holding my hand that day. So why did my memory say her, and not
it
? I’d filled in the gap between the machine and my mother, something I hadn’t been able to do at the time. The thought sickened me. How stupid I had been. The moment she’d taken her own life, that was when I had really lost her, when she had truly ceased to be. Before then she had been with me all the time and I hadn’t appreciated her for what she was, for the huge effort she had made on my behalf. All I had now was her letter, but the words of the letter would never change … they would never show me some new way.

I pulled my rucksack up my shoulder and made my way along the corridor. I checked the paper for the number and punched it into the keypad. The door opened and I entered the underground house. Once again, light upon light flashed on in sequence, revealing each ornament and piece of furniture. It smelled musty down there, untouched by fresh air. There were probably fans and ventilators somewhere, but they weren’t on, and the place stank.

I studied the map and keyed in the same code to enter the room behind the staircase. It was unnervingly cold and practical—a bunker, a panic room, a paranoid’s dream suite. Blue UV tubes lined the walls, saturating everything in their light: padded body-armour, large black guns slotted into metal brackets, holding out their many hands, insisting,
Go on, take one. You’re going to need us where you’re going, little girl.

Droplets of sweat were beginning to form on my brow. I scoured the wall, searching for a suitable weapon.

What was I doing? As I tried to select a weapon I realised I had no clue—no idea of what lay ahead. All my life the outside world had been labelled a wilderness of nameless evils. There were predators out there, my father had once said to me, that’s why the tower had been built in the first place. To protect us. To keep us safe. And so once again questions peppered my mind in a shower of hot sparks: Jai-Li, what
are
you doing?

I turned from the wall and studied the armour and the glass cubicles housing the gas masks.

I should grab one of those, I told myself. What if the air outside was bad? What if I was poisoned as soon as I stepped out into the open? Maybe my mother had been wrong, maybe she knew no better, bless her. Maybe my father knew the awful truth. But I couldn’t go back.

No, Jai-Li
, a second voice chimed.
You’re leaving here. You’re getting out of the tower. Don’t lose your courage or your hatred now, Jai-Li; you’ll need both for a while to come.

I opened the cubicle door, quickly whipped the mask out, and gave it no more thought.

My eyes narrowed as I scanned the blue map. I proceeded to the hatch door at the far left corner of the room, grabbed the handle, lifted it and peeked through.

Beyond lay a short narrow tunnel, illuminated by a sequence of glowing glass floor tiles. I crawled through. My breathing began to quicken in that constricted space and my escalating heartbeat thudded in my ears. The hatch door closed behind me and after crawling a short distance I came to a large, dimly lit space.

Several bright white lights flared at once, and for a moment I thought I had been lured into some trap, but the lights revealed only a cube of a room without doors or windows. In the centre of the room something shone bright and new and astonishing. On the map it had been labelled “air-pod,” but this was like nothing I had ever seen before.

It was bean-shaped, a vehicle of some kind—metallic, curved and immaculate—like a gigantic drop of mercury, with no windows or doors to break its smooth surface. The vehicle was inactive, but something was keeping it hovering off the grey tiled floor. Beneath, I could see no stand, no wheels, no platform. It was clearly sitting in a state of rest, as light as a cloud in the sky, as a bubble under water. This strange machine was, according to my mother’s map, what I would be using to make my escape.

On the map, I had read “
air pod—speak your name
.” So I did. I said my name out loud and the side of the pod opened along seams so fine I hadn’t noticed them. The door rolled out and touched the ground, revealing the rungs of steel steps which led directly inside.

As I took my first step towards the pod, I was encouraged by the strong sense that my mother was still guiding me. The thought gave me strength, filled me with hope. I was charged up, ready to go up those rib-like steps. Ducking my head, I slid into the miniature cockpit. Four red chairs were positioned near a panel of instruments. I took the front seat. The outside of the vehicle was mirrored, but from my seat I could see the entire room.

The door rolled up and closed behind me. I surveyed the instrument panel. I had no idea what to push, what to pull, how to get the thing started and moving. I stopped my frantic thoughts, reassured myself. If it was that complicated, surely I’d have been given instructions? And sure enough, the door sealed of its own accord, securing me in the metallic bean. I heard the hum of a generator and steadily a vibration began to build in my seat …