《Good Night, Humans》


 Chapter 1

    Reuben


    The ¡®Great Thirst¡¯ Desert


    Sand tasted bitter in my mouth as I pushed my spade down into the stagnant dirt. Sweat pooled under my hair and trickled into my eyes, but I had nothing left inside me to even blink it away.


    I didn''t care.


    On and on I dug. Time had become meaningless¡ªevery day stretched out like a blanket, cursing our dreams and turning them into one hot, sticky nightmare.


    Do you know when my favourite time of day was? Just before I fell asleep. That point when your eyes are closed and your mind goes all hazy, and your thoughts sort of drift around, free as a bird.


    There were no birds any longer. Only dust. I sank my spade deeper still.


    ''Reuben . . . Reuben! Let''s get out of here, come on. Shift''s over.''


    That''s me, isn''t it. Reuben.Funny¡ªI guess I was at the stage where I was so mind-numbed with boredom, I could forget my own name.


    ''Coming, Jake.''


    Of course, I was coming. Where else would I go?


    *


    I sat in the mess-hall, stuffing my portion of rations into my mouth in a disgusting display of ill-manners. My mother would have been appalled. Thinking of my mother halted my gorging for a moment as I gazed at the slop, but I looked up just in time to spot Jake''s spoon inching towards my bowl.


    ''No way. Not on your life.'' I snatched my bowl away like a cat defending prey. That''s not to say the slop tasted good. It didn''t. It tasted like wet dog food, just without the flavour or texture. To imagine eating dog food. . . My belly rumbled. When me and Jake were kids, we found an old shack buried in the rubble. There was no food inside, no running water, nothing of value¡ªthe robustans had taken it all. The only things left were dog food tins¡ªrobustans had no need for such petty things as dogs. Hounds for killing, maybe, but not domestic dogs, with their bounding energy and loyalty.


    Meaningless character traits in a modern society.


    Oh, how we dined on that dog food. Those tins lasted us weeks.


    ''But I''m starving, man,'' Jake moaned. ''Just give me the last dregs, please.''


    ''No.'' Brotherly love only went so far. I''d be no use to Jake dead.


    ''Kah!'' A whip snapped through the hushed human chatter; everybody fell silent. I shovelled the last of the slop into my mouth before I could draw attention to myself. Seko, one of the highest ranking robustans in our slave camp, had begun roaming up and down the aisles, glaring at us all like we were termites in a mound he had just trodden in. And that he was not happy about.


    ''El vesto mi to kahandi.'' Seko''s long, jagged features moulded into a sneer. He beckoned another robustan from the other end of the hall and approached an older woman, her crooked back bent over the low slab of wood set on the dusty ground: our table. Her eyes darted, wary and skittish. I could see her legs twitching, itching to run.


    ''Run, Esther.'' Jake''s breath stroked my cheek, soft as a feather. It sent a chill down my spine.


    Jake didn''t know any more than I did what the robustan was saying. It didn''t matter. Nothing they ever said was good. Not when it came to us, the human slaves.


    Another robustan, Megiaji, came over. He was taller than Seko, his features soft, unlike most robustans faces that looked chiselled as marble statues. He almost looked too perfect, like some sort of divine being far above and beyond this world. And yet, what Megiaji lacked in physical harshness, he more than made up for in harshness of character.


    ''TELLO de hava. Tello, albry a TELLO.''Megiaji''s whip sliced through the air with astonishing speed, before any of us even had the chance to register what was happening; Esther screamed. Blood splattered the table top. Megiaji lowered his whip again, and again, and Esther''s screaming filled our ears and our hearts and I turned my face away, tears blurring my vision, unable to stand it anymore. Jake''s arms wrapped over his head, blocking out the world.


    The worst part was not knowing.Why?What had Esther done to deserve it? None of us knew. None of us could guess. She was just sat there, eating her slop, the same as everybody else. Her granddaughter sobbed beside her, soaked red from head to foot.


    When it was over, Seko tugged Esther''s body from her seat, and dumped her onto the floor. We watched, shaking. Megiaji muttered into Seko''s ear and Seko nodded; as abruptly as he arrived, Megiaji strode away, cracking his whip to clean it. A trail of blood speckled a path behind him.


    ''Finto.''Seko''s bark snapped us out of our reveries; we grabbed our bowls, jostling each other, fighting to throw them in the cavernous washing-up basin and get the hell out as fast as we could. Meal times were risky, and this day was proving no different.


    The crowds surrounding the basin began to clear and, slower than my peers, I dropped my bowl inside. I was watching Sara, the granddaughter, rocking on the floor beside crooked Esther''s body. When she and Jake were small, they''d played together, digging holes in the sand. They used to make my mother laugh, always up to no good; they''d follow me around, pestering me, and Esther used to stroke my hair, shushing me when I complained.


    I glanced up; Seko might have been long gone, but another robustan could take his place at any moment. I hurried over to Sara, ignoring Jake''s squeaks of alarm. I yanked her upright, her legs buckling under her, and unceremoniously dragged her away, just like someone did to me when my mother died. Sara fought me for only a few seconds¡ªher teeth half-heartedly trying to sink into my hand covering her mouth¡ªbut then she gave up, and flopped against me. Letting me drag her away.


    *


    We worked the night shift immediately after dinner. The irrigation system we were fixing was taking longer than anticipated; too many workers had been pulled to fix the camp''s out-of-date defences. Although, why the robustans needed defences was anybody''s guess. What were they so afraid of? A rebellion? Not likely.


    Arguments between robustans in charge of defences and of irrigation had become our latest entertainment. Their voices grew sharper and faster, spitting words like bullets. But Defences won in the end; in compensation, it was decided that the (now shrunken) irrigation team were to work long into the night as well as through the day.


    You''d think the night shift would be preferable to the day, for obvious heat-related reasons. You''d be surprised. For a start, it''s really hard trying to install underground piping when snakes keep jumping out of holes to bite your arm off¡ªthis doesn''t happen so much in the scorching heat of day. It''s okay when it''s the glossy snakes, they don''t scare us anymore, but the venomous puff adder can be a real bitch if you piss it off. But worse is the cold. Not what you''d expect, huh. Cold, in the desert? Well in winter, it can get below zero. And we didn''t get a change of clothes. No handy hat and scarf for us mugs shovelling dirt all day and night.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    At around three in the morning we finally clocked off, chucked our shovels into the shed and sloped back to camp. Jake and I shared a room with the rest of our tribe. We bickered amongst ourselves for blankets before sinking onto the floor, falling asleep the second our heads hit the dirt.


    Imagine it. Dirt, dust, sweat and blood, all squished together under the ''Great Thirst''s'' sun . . . I won''t bother trying to describe the smell.


    Everyone was their normal state of irritable when we were woken up the next morning. The sirens wailed as we trooped to collect our morning rations, carrying our flasks with us to stop off at the well. The queue was enormous.


    ''You okay, kid?'' I stepped into line behind Sara, who was standing there, world-weary with bloodshot eyes. She shrugged, refusing to look at me. I didn''t press her. I understood.


    We shuffled forwards, the line taking forever. We passed the time by muttering to each other under our breaths; there was gossip. One of the guys on defences had been caught spying on the robustans. He was beaten to a pulp, but he managed to survive, and even caught a glimpse of the rusty television inside the robustan office. According to him¡ªbefore his teeth were smashed in¡ªthere was some sort of commotion in the neighbouring town. The authorities were activating the military. We were fascinated, of course. I''d never heard of the military do anything other than a culling.


    But gossip could only keep us entertained for so long and Jake was getting impatient. To be honest, so was I. My sand-paper tongue kept brushing the roof of my mouth, the unpleasant stale taste of yesterday''s slop refusing to fade. I needed water.


    The water we drank from the well was a murky brown. Sounds healthy, right? The robustans wouldn''t have touched it if their lives depended on it. Our lives, however, did¡ªand we didn''t have the luxury of being fussy. But now, people were being fussy. As I got closer to the well, I could tell something wasn''t right. People were almost raising their voices, arms waving in agitation. Sara refused water altogether, taking one look down the well and walking straight past, shaking her head. I took her place at the front of the queue, not prepared for the sight awaited me as I peered inside.


    It explained the particularly long queue this morning.


    A meercat had died in the well.


    How the bloody hell it had got in, I have no idea. Its legs were broken, bent outwards at strange angles, and blood had poured into the water, staining it red. The smell was overwhelming, the buzzing sound of flies filling the air; Jake leant over my shoulder and cried out.


    ''Seriously?That''s disgusting.'' His nose wrinkled up as he cringed backwards away from the stink. ''Dammit, Reuben, what the hell are we supposed to drink now?''


    Old Abel behind us clearly didn''t give a damn. He pushed us aside, dipped his flask in, and strode off towards the ration pit, grumbling about "slow, bumbling idiots". He didn''t even glance at the water inside. We watched him glug several great gulps from the flask; Jake shuddered.


    We hadn''t noticed Seko creeping up behind us.


    ''What are we supposed to drink?'' Jake whispered again, more to himself than anything. His hands buried into his hair as his breathing quickened; I grabbed his arm to try and pull him back but Seko was faster. Stronger. Healthier. With a sweep of his arm, Seko flung me aside¡ªI landed in the dirt with a thud.


    Seko''s sharp, piercing features loomed over me, and my heart went cold at his expression. The almost-smile playing on his lips. The flared nostrils. Those perfect, coin-round eyes narrowed into slits.


    ''Hell no. You donothit my brother.'' Jake rounded on Seko. The gleam of madness sparkled in his eyes. My heart skipped a beat; no one spoke to the robustans that way.Has Jake lost his mind?


    ''Stop it, Jake, it doesn''t matter.'' I clawed myself out of the sand and grabbed Jake''s arm, pulling with even more urgency than before. ''We''re sorry,'' I turned to Seko this time, backing away and stumbling over my feet. ''He doesn''t mean anything by it¡ª''


    ''Like HELL I don''t! I''ve had it, Reuben, I''ve had it with these maniacs thinking they can treat us like crap all the time¡ªyou don''t get to do this, you don''t get to do this to us, Seko¡ª''


    SMACK. With one swoop of his fist, Seko socked Jake in the mouth.


    Jake flew back into the sand, landing heavily on his back with a yelp; then Seko was on him. His knees pinned Jake to the ground as his fist pummelled up and down, up and down; Jake''s legs flailed, kicking up the sand. Useless. Pointless.


    What do I do?My words were trapped, too terrified to escape; my little brother was being beaten to a pulp right before my eyes and I couldn''t do adamn thing about it.I was too stunned, frozen. My brain in lock-down.My brother! My baby brother!


    Something shifted in my brain; I tried to wrench Seko off, but he backhanded me in the nose. He was too strong; pulling his arm was like pulling lead, unmoving, unforgiving. I span around wildly, searching for anything,anythingto help¡ªwithout thinking I grabbed a shovel lying on the ground and swung it with every ounce of my strength.


    The blade sunk deep into the side of Seko''s skull.


    A gasp echoed, rippling through the sand. Followed by the loudest silence I have ever heard.


    Momentum caused the spade to swing itself right out of my hands; Seko staggered back, his eyes wide and popping, failing to believe that a human, a mere human, had been able to hurt him. Our eyes locked, and there was something, a flicker, of what looked like fear but itcouldn''thave been¡ªbefore it faded into nothingness. Seko collapsed in a heap of blood and brains.


    I sank to my knees beside Jake, and vomited every ration my gut contained onto the blood-stained sand.


    *


    ''Reuben?Reuben?''Someone was shaking me, but I wrenched my shoulders away and gave in to another wave¡ª


    ''Reuben get a grip! Before the other robustans find us. Come on, boy, we need to move Jake.Reuben?''


    The sound of Jake''s name reached me like nothing else could. Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I glanced at my brother lying in the dust and my heart leapt. His face was already swelling, a mask of bruises and blood, and his eyes were closed . . . but there,therewas the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I shook my head, desperate to stay calm. Breathe.Breathe. A small group of anxious faces had gathered in the background, but it was elderly Abel who knelt by my side. He took my face roughly in his hands.


    ''You''ve got to get out of here, Reuben. They''ll kill you for this, you know that.''


    I nodded feverishly. I knew. I had killed a robustan. They would rip me apart, tear limb after limb from my body, gouge out my eyeballs, any form of torture I could possibly imagine, before finally killing me. But not before they killed Jake, of course. I would be forced to watch.


    I had to get out. I heaved Jake onto my back, staggering under his weight, and looked around for an idea,anyidea. I had to hurry; the sounds of our fight must have carried if the crowd forming around us was anything to go by, and we would only have minutes before the robustans at the ration station were alerted.


    ''Right,'' I whispered. ''It''s going to be okay, Jake, I promise. I''ve got you.''


    ''What are you going to do?'' Abel''s voice was low and gruff, but I could hear the concern behind it. I looked him straight in the eyes.


    ''I''m going to steal the ration van, and get the hell outta here.''


    I expected him to be shocked. But all he did was look at me with grim resolution.


    ''Right.'' Sara was pushing her way through the crowd; she grabbed the blood-ridden shovel from the ground, hoisted it over her shoulder and offered me her hand. ''Then I''m coming with you. We''re the walking dead here anyway. What have we got to lose?''


    I swallowed, taking Sara''s hand gingerly, as though it could bite me. Her fingers closed tight around mine and a feeling long-forgotten swelled in my chest.


    ''Well, if we''re doing this, we better get going, kids.'' Old Abel pointed to the van, parked innocently behind the sheds. ''We ain''t got much time.''


    There was no time to even process what their support meant to me. With the gaggle of watchers-on staring open-mouthed at our backs, we hurried towards the van, gagging at the smell of the sleeping huts. We hunched by its side as Sara smashed the blade of the shovel onto the chain securing the back doors¡ªone, two, three times. We heard a yell.


    ''Hurry!'' With Sara''s help, I heaved Jake into the back of the van; Abel was already settled in the passenger''s seat, and I raced round to the driver''s side. Three robustans were already sprinting across the plains by the side of the shed, pointing and shouting; my fingers fumbled with the ignition as the alarm went off. Sara was there in a second, hurling the blade down into the recognition-sensor. The beeping stopped instantly; Sara raced for the back door and I flicked the starting switch¡ªthe van revved into life. I yanked the gear stick backwards but the van didn''t need me, it knew exactly what to do.


    ''Just drive, drive!'' I yelled, and the van lurched backwards into the path of the robustans, sending them flying in all directions.


    ''Get us out of here!'' Sara screamed. The van jerked forwards with a jolt, and everybody collapsed; we sped off into the distance with old, gruff Abel whooping next to me like a man a quarter of his age.

 Chapter 2

    Jesse


    The ''Thundering Smoke'', Living Stone


    I could hear voices inside my head.


    As if life wasn''t hard enough. Right? Of course¡ªI had to hear voices.


    They talked to me. Every night, every day, they weren''t fussy. They called to me, sometimes in a whisper, soft as a shadow, and sometimes in a scream, so loud I could barely hear myself think. No wonder people said that I didn''t pay attention.


    They should''ve tried hearing voices inside their heads.


    *


    ''Yeeeeeeeeeeess!''


    My screams echoed behind me as I sailed on the wind¡ªI am faster than an eagle, swifter than a cobra¡ªI soar through the air like a¡ª


    Jesse? Are you trying to get us killed?


    No, I thought. I''d be happy to get you killed though.


    Charming, as always.


    ''Whooooooooooooooo!''


    The Thundering Smoke waterfall crashed over the mountain side as I dived. I flung my arms out as the wind swept through my hair, and fell into the abyss.


    It was freedom like I''d never felt before. The colours of the world, the rainbows in the water and on the crystalline rocks, and every shade of green in the trees and the grass merged into one huge prism of light and colour. Tears streamed down my cheeks until I couldn''t tell what was water and what were tears, and my heart stopped for just a second or two as I gasped for breath.


    Then, the surface of the river shattered into a thousand diamonds as I crashed into its depths.


    I climbed back up the rocky cliffs, saturated, bruised and sore but exhilarated like you wouldn''t believe. What bigger buzz could there be than diving into the most beautiful waterfall on Earth with just a bit of rope wrapped round your torso.


    ''Jesse? What in blazes are you doing?''


    And there, right on cue, was my father. I watched him storm towards me, his shaggy beard quivering with rage. The biggest killjoy in all the world. Quite literally, what with the choice of humans being so thin on the ground. Apart from the robustans, of course, but hell, they were killjoys by biology. My father was a killjoy by choice.


    Prophecy sighed. Your father has a sensible head on his shoulders.


    You wish you had a head on your shoulders.


    Nice come back, little boy.


    ''Nothing?'' I suggested.


    ''Damn it, Jesse. Why do you always bring shame upon me?'' Father grabbed my shoulder and forced me forwards, away from the Falls into the surrounding rainforest.


    Yeah. ''Cause in the current situation of imminent extinction, it''s definitely me bringing shame upon him.


    You bring it on yourself.


    Your mum brings it¡ª


    Oh, shut up.


    I could have argued with myself some more, but my father was giving me a rather odd look. You know¡ª the kind that seems to say: ''why is my son insane?''.


    ''I don''t try to bring shame on you, Father. I was just¡ª''


    ''Don''t even bother. It doesn''t matter what excuse you''re about to make up. I won''t believe it anyway.''


    ''Fair enough.''


    ''Fine.''


    We trudged back through Living Stone to our village in silence. Now, our village, it was really quite something. In fact, I''d go as far to say that I had the most incredible home you could ever asked for. Which might sound strange, given that as a species on the brink of extinction, we really didn''t have a whole lot of choice over where we lived.


    It''s like, if our tribe could have picked anywhere on Earth to live, if the robustans spontaneously combusted and we could go anywhere we wanted, this is the exact place I would have chosen.


    It was perfect.


    Our village was a mile into the rainforest from The Thundering Smoke. We built huts in the trees so that if any robustans were crazy enough to venture here, which sometimes they did, searching for rumoured tribes of humans (can''t image where the rumours came from), we would be safe up in the trees, camouflaged and silent. We collected water from the Piper river and drank it from round, woven bowls that we made from the reeds and rushes by the river banks.


    The reception I received upon our return was frosty to say the least. The whole tribe was sat waiting, in ceremonial positions, in the heart of the village: neat little rows with the Chief at the head of the table, if you imagined there was a table.


    ''Thanks for keeping us waiting, Jesse. Again,'' someone called out; they were immediately hushed. I saw my mother in one of the rows, covering her face with her hands.


    ''Sometimes I think it would be easier to wait until you''re asleep to have these meetings,'' my father hissed in my ear, yanking me along by the scruff of the neck. I stumbled towards my place next to the Chief and scowled.


    ''Stop talking to me when I''m asleep. You know I hate that.'' I plonked myself onto the ground and leant my chin on my hand.


    I also hated meetings.


    ''All rise for the arrival of the Chosen One.'' The Chief stood up, bowed his head towards me, rolled his eyes to the heavens when I ignored him, and indicated for everyone to sit down again. ''We can begin.'' With a collective sigh, everyone sat.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ''He''s late, Chief Harazi,'' one of the men, Zeke, grumbled. ''Again. He''s always late and these meetings are always about him!'' My father clapped Zeke on the shoulder as he walked past towards his seat.


    ''Tell me about it,'' Father muttered, and everybody laughed. Well. Everyone except me.


    ''Maybe I just have better things to do,'' I said.


    Maybe you''re just jealous because they only ever want to speak to me.


    ''Shut up,'' I said, and Harazi glanced at me. His forehead pursed in a quizzical frown.


    Then, he shook his head and turned back to the tribe. ''As you all know, last night we had another prophecy. Jesse revealed to us the location of a new tribe of humans.'' A gasp rippled through the little crowd and I huffed to myself. ''Omar, Father of the Chosen One, would you like to tell the people what you heard last night?''


    ''Gladly.'' My father got to his feet and cleared his throat. ''As I was sleeping, I was awoken by Jesse. He was sleeping fitfully again, much more so than usual, so I went to him.''


    ''I am here, you know.''


    ''And when I went, he acknowledged me. He grasped my hand whilst Jesse slept, and I could . . . I could feel a strength behind the grip. A strength beyond my Jesse''s.''


    Ouch. Okay. That stung.


    ''And so, I asked him¡ª is that you? Am I speaking with the Prophet? And he replied, using Jesse''s mouth¡ª yes, it is I. I am here to guide you all once again.''


    Oh, come on. I did not sound so pompous. He always makes me sound so pompous.


    ''And what did the prophet say?'' Harazi leant forwards, oozing eagerness in desperate waves as he hung on to my father''s every word.


    They do know that you and I are the same person, right? That we are both the prophet?


    Nope. I don''t think they get it.


    At last, my father looked at me. ''Tell them, Jesse. Tell me what the Prophet told me last night.''


    I sighed. Most of the time, the fact that I hear voices just tends to annoy people. They get annoyed when I zone out in the middle of conversations; they get angry when I forget things because there''s too much information in my head to keep track of it all; they shout at me when I say random things that don''t make sense because I''ve forgotten to have one conversation in my head and another out loud. And then, every so often, the voice says something even I don''t understand, about the survival of the human race blah blah blah, and suddenly everyone wants a bar of me. They can''t get enough of Crazy Jesse''s Prophecies, as they like to call them. Trust me to have the rotten luck that these nut jobs actually believe the crap I spout and call them Prophecies.


    That''s because it''s NOT CRAP. I am legitimately prophesising to you.


    Prophesising? Is that even a word?


    Goddammit, if it isn''t, it is now.


    You are rude for a prophesising voice.


    You are obnoxious for a prophet.


    ''Jesse?''


    ''Oh, yeah, right. Sorry, Chief Harazi. Was just talking to¡ªnever mind. So, yes, as I was fitfully sleeping, the voice of Prophecy spouted out of my mouth like Holy Water raining down from the Heaven of Angels¡ª''


    ''JESSE¡ªIF YOU CAN''T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY¡ª''


    ''Okay, okay! Sorry Father, sorry Chief Harazi, just a joke to take the edge off my nerves. Public speaking, you know how it is . . .''


    ''Jesse¡ª''


    ''Okay, okay. So, I was sleeping and, actually, hang on. You talk to them instead.''


    ''Thank you. At last, you stop rambling and let me speak. I apologise; many thanks to you all for your attendance, your courtesy, and your patience. It was I who spoke to Omar last night, to deliver unto him my latest Prophecy. I saw a young man, who walks through the desert in terrible pain, with a weight on his back and his fellows in his wake. He leads them forwards but does not yet know where, only that he must keep going or die trying. He has committed a terrible crime: he has taken a life, but only to defend the one he loves. And now, their journey has begun¡ªso ours too must begin. He may not know it, but he leads one of the missing tribes of humanity, and you must find him, before it is too late and the robustans find him first. He will help lead us to victory in this Great War and end the sufferings of us all.'' Amen.


    Shut up. You just wish your speeches were that cool.


    There was a moment of hushed silence. Twenty-three members of my tribe, one of the last remaining on the whole planet, all united in awe.


    In awe of me.


    ''There''s another surviving Tribe? I thought you''d already revealed them all, Jesse?'' Eliza, one of the village healers, ''s voice was soft, timid as she addressed the "Mighty Voice of the Prophet."


    ''Yeah. He thought he had but woops, guess he forgot one. Never mind, he thinks he''s revealed them all this time,'' I told Eliza, in what I considered to be a very reassuring voice. ''But . . . this is different,'' Sol said, ignoring my comment and looking around at the others with wide eyes. ''This time he''s calling for action. Who is this leader? Jesse, what else do you know? How do we find him? How is he going to lead us to victory?''


    ''Um, to answer all your questions: I don''t know, no, I don''t know, and I don''t know.''


    ''Which desert is he in?''


    ''How will we know him if we find him?''


    ''How many other survivors are there in his tribe?''


    ''I thought the Great War was over¡ªhow can we fight when most of us are gone?''


    The questions were endless; soon everyone was standing up or over me, each trying to yell theories and plans and questions louder at me than the person next to them. I hunched down in my seat as low as I could sink. The new leader, the prophecies, the Great War . . . on and on and on.


    It is all rather important.


    I rested my chin in my palm. I know. I know. But maybe I don''t want to be a part of it anymore.


    *


    It was dark by the time I was allowed to go home. Having twenty-three people shouting over you for hours on end is more bloody tiring than bungee-jumping off the Thundering Smoke.


    ''You did very well out there today.'' My mum smiled at me as I shook off my shoes and trudged inside our hut. ''Sometimes when you''re up there, I forget you''re only sixteen.''


    ''Do you really?'' My father snorted, sitting down expectantly at the table, not even noticing Mum glaring at him. Shaking her head, she went to get him some dinner; he kicked off his shoes and stuck his feet on the table. I stared at them. They smelt bad.


    ''You''re too hard on him, Omar.'' Mum frowned, setting a bowl of soup down in front of him so hard it spilt over the sides and onto his lap.


    ''Why does everybody talk about me like I''m not even here?'' I joined my parents at the table and began prodding at my lumpy vegetables.


    ''Because most of the time we can''t get any sense out of you. So, what''s the point in talking to you?'' My father laughed. Then he jerked, his knee lurching up at the table so that all of our soup spilt. He grimaced, rubbing his shin. ''I ¨C I mean¡ª''


    ''Don''t bother, Father. I know what you mean.'' We ate in silence. Or at least, my parents were silent.


    Don''t know what you''re so crabby about.


    I don''t like the way he speaks to me.


    He doesn''t understand you. We are difficult to understand.


    Maybe I wouldn''t be so damned complicated if I didn''t have YOU in my ear every five seconds.


    ''Jesse? Are you even listening to me?''


    Oh. Maybe they weren''t so silent after all.


    ''Nope. Sorry. Continue.''


    My mum raised an eyebrow at my father, and he stifled his growl into a cough.


    ''I was¡ªahem¡ªI was just saying that whilst everybody was getting all worked up at the meeting, I was having a very interesting conversation with Chief Harazi. About you.''


    ''Oh, were you now.''


    ''Yes. I was. We were saying¡ª'' Father stopped. He hesitated, looking to my mother for reassurance, which got my attention like nothing else. Since when was my father unsure of himself?


    ''¡ªwe were saying that it might be a good idea if we . . . uh . . . sent you to find this leader that you spoke of. We could send you out on a, uh, a mission of some sort, and you could use your prophecies to locate this man.''


    I blinked. ''What do you mean¡ªwait, what? You think I should go and find this guy?''


    ''Yes, yes we think that would be the most logical way forwards from here¡ª''


    ''How?'' I stood up, knocking the chair backwards onto the floor. ''How am I supposed to find this guy? I don''t know any more about him than you do. YOU go find him.''


    ''Oh, stop being so facetious, Jesse, you don''t understand¡ª''


    ''No, Father¡ªYOU don''t understand! How can I get it through your thick skull¡ªI don''t know any of the answers to your questions! Prophecy doesn''t even know the answers, he just comes to me sometimes and I can''t control when or what he tells me! You KNOW this. What am I supposed to do¡ªgo out into the desert¡ªHOW DO I EVEN KNOW WHERE THE DESERT IS ANYWAY¡ªand find some random guy that I know NOTHING about?''


    ''Jesse¡ª''


    ''NO.'' Everybody has a limit. I stormed out of kitchen, ignoring my mum who reached out for me, and shoving my way past my father as he started to chase me. The rains had started but I didn''t care; I dropped down from our tree-hut, my bare feet squelching as I landed in the mud, and I ran back towards the Thundering Smoke, towards Living Stone Island, where no-one cared about the voices in my head.


    Don''t you think you''re being a little¡ª?


    NO.


    Just¡ª


    No.

 Chapter 3

    Raz


    The ''Rear'' Mountains, The Vast


    I lived for the dark. For those cold, secluded places where nobody went. The night, that everybody was so afraid of ¡ªit became my kingdom.


    The darkness was where I felt safe. It was where I could be alone.


    Over the years, the others sometimes tried to coax me out with their secret meetings, their rationed ''feasts'', the occasional game by the firelight. But I never joined in, and they soon stopped trying.


    I was an island.


    It made me feel vulnerable, living in a group. Having to depend on other, weaker people than myself. Having to trust others with my life. With my Ima''s life. No one was that trustworthy.


    If it hadn''t been for Ima, I would have been long gone. They wouldn''t have seen me for dust. But because of Ima, I was forced to stay.


    We lived, if you could even call it living, a nomadic lifestyle, and had been traipsing up the coastline of the Origin through the Vast Desert for the past few years, finally crossing towards the Rear Mountains.


    I saw a robustan shoot a zebra, once, for the sheer hell of it. What kind of arsehole shoots a zebra and doesn''t even eat it afterwards?


    Our nomadic lifestyle was risky, but so much safer than staying in one place. When we did temporarily stop moving, we tried our best to stay hidden. The Rear Mountains were a gift from nature; over the last few thousand years, the volcanic rocks had eroded to form a network of caves and tunnels. We had been hiding inside these tunnels for the past few months, and I had grown to know them like the back of my hand.


    I say ''we''. I should say, the Mahtillim, and I. Ima considered herself to be of the Mahtillim, she said so herself, even though they were of what used to be called "Middle-Eastern" decent and she was born all the way down at the southern tip of the Origin, which used to be called "Africa". She believed it so strongly that she''d only respond to me if I called her by the Mahtillim''s word for mother: Ima. Sometimes, when I did, she''d tell me of a time when life was beautiful and she had everything she could ever want. And yet, she never actually wanted anything. But of course, this was before she was captured.


    She was a funny woman, my Ima, my mother. It had been twenty-five years since the surviving Mahtillim escaped the robustans and she was captured, and she remembered it like it was yesterday. I think, in her head, it was still yesterday, she was so far away most of the time. I''m not sure she remembered me being born.


    I soon decided I liked the caves of the Rear Mountains. I took to walking through them at night, the darkness never a problem for me, listening to the skuttling of sand-critters across the rocky floors. The other Mahtillim used to watch me when I left to go on my explorations, but none of them ever offered to join me.


    They were plotting something, and had been for the last few weeks. I didn''t much care until I realised that every time I got back from the tunnels, the conversations would abruptly stop.


    ''Whatever,'' I muttered to myself. I am an island. They can do their worst.


    I went to find Ima, who was huddled in her usual spot. There were several sleeping caves that had been assigned, and most people shared with at least ten other people, but Ima and I were lucky enough to have our own tiny cave to sleep in. Ima spent most of her days there, hunched over, swathed in blankets, staring at the ground and mumbling to herself. One of the women was with her when I arrived, trying to gently coax her into eating something.


    ''Come on now, Berta, you know you need to keep your strength up.'' The woman waved a spoonful of crushed root vegetables tentatively in front of Ima''s mouth, but Ima ignored her. I folded my arms, and watched.


    ''Just one spoonful, that''s right . . .''


    ''No!'' Ima''s hand flew up from under the blankets and knocked the spoon away from the woman, spilling the vegetables all over herself. I sighed.


    ''Enough now. Leave her to me.''


    The woman flinched at the sound of my voice. ''It''s okay, Raz, I wasn''t doing any harm.'' She backed away from Ima, raising her hands up in a pacifying gesture. I shook my head.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ''Get out of here.''


    The woman scurried out of the cave, and I dropped down to the ground beside Ima. Slowly, I took a spoonful of the vegetables out of the bowl, and chewed it up myself. Then, I spat it back out onto the spoon.


    ''See, Ima? It''s not poison.''


    Ima whispered something at me, and flapped her hands over her face.


    ''No, I''m not eating your food. Nice try. Eat, or you''ll die, and then all of this will be a waste.''


    Ima moaned, but I brought the chewed-up roots to her mouth anyway, and reluctantly she opened her mouth and let me spoon them in. She glared at me as though I was the worst person in the entire world, which I suppose might be true, and spat a chunk out at me. It hit me in the face. Wiping it off, I resigned myself to a long evening.


    *


    It was another hour before I was sure Ima had eaten a proper meal, and I left her rocking and muttering to herself. The others were huddled around the fire in the largest cave, which they called the chamber, and were deep in conversation when I entered. I wouldn''t have bothered, but by now I was hungry too, and the only way to get any food around here was to get it from the cooks in the chamber.


    Of course, they stopped talking when I came in, and so I ignored them all back, taking a bowl of roots for myself and sitting down in a corner of the chamber, eating in silence.


    Idiots. As if they can beat me at my own game.


    My spoon was tiny in my hand. I turned the wooden instrument over and over, and wondered if I could crush it just by clenching my fist. I concentrated hard, and watched it crumple a little in my grip. A tiny cough broke my concentration, and I turned to glare over my shoulder.


    It was Anthon, the leader of the Mahtillim, hovering like a gnat behind me.


    ''What do you want?'' I glowered at him. For a well-built, middle-aged man, he looked like a little kid as he scuffed his feet on the ground.


    ''It''s about time we had a talk, don''t you think?'' he said, taking a deep breath.


    ''No.''


    ''Look, Raz,'' Anthon tried again. I could hear him losing patience as his voice wavered. ''Everyone''s treading on eggshells. It''s got to stop. We need to talk about this.''


    I stood up, and Anthon backed away. I sneered down at him, the pathetic little man. ''You gonna make me?''


    ''No, Raz. But I am asking you. Please, have a bit of common-sense. We''ve all been trying to come up with the best solution for weeks now, and you haven''t exactly been very approachable¡ª''


    ''You know my thoughts on the matter.''


    ''I know, I know.''


    ''So this is what you''ve all been trying to hide from me? You''re trying to find another way to push Ima out.'' I wasn''t asking them. I already knew the answer. I think I''d known it all along.


    ''No, Raz. Obviously, that isn''t what any of us want at all, you know how much we all . . . uh . . . care about Berta, but you must see how trying to keep her with us is affecting the tribe. None of us can think of another solution!'' Anthon must have noticed the look on my face as he suddenly backed even further away, and Leah and Caleb came over to join him. Safety in numbers, you know.


    I took two, heavy, deliberate steps towards him. I could feel the tension in my muscles as I flexed them, and a burning hatred flooded through my body as I seized the front of Anthon''s shirt.


    ''Raz, no!''


    ''I don''t care what you want, or what is best for the tribe. She''ll die without you. You know she will.''


    ''But you can care for her better than any of us can¡ª''


    ''It''s not about that and you know it. Last time you tried to ditch us, she curled up into a ball and cried for days without stopping. She refused to eat, she refused to sleep¡ªshe gave up on living, you worthless piece of dog-shit. And you claim to care about your own, to care about your tribe.'' I flung Anthon away from me in disgust, and spat at the ground by his feet. Leah was by his side in a second, checking if he was okay and helping him back to his feet.


    ''We put up with you for her sake,'' Caleb yelled at me, as Leo ran over to restrain him. ''As if any of us want you around us, but we do it for her sake.''


    ''For her sake? For her sake? Don''t kid yourself you''ve done anything for her sake, we all know whose sake it''s been for¡ª''


    ''How many lives are we supposed to sacrifice for one person, Raz? How many people, how many children, are we going to put at risk just to keep her alive?''


    ''As many as it takes.''


    ''Enough!'' Anthon had recovered from the shock of his fall, and he rushed to stand between me and Caleb, arms stretched out to keep us apart. ''Raz, you''ve got to understand¡ªBerta is a danger to herself, to all of us. I''ve lost count of the number of times she''s nearly given us away; without your uncles, who knows what could have happened. But they''ve all sacrificed themselves for her, for you, and they were good, strong men with families, Raz. All we are trying to do is keep the people we love alive.''


    ''And that''s exactly what I''m doing too.'' I took a deep, steadying breath. ''You listen to me, and you listen good. For as long as Ima wants to be with you all, then that''s exactly what is going to happen. If you leave in the night, I will hear, and we will follow. If you try to kill us, I will kill you first. If you try and lure us into a trap, I will outsmart you. And every person who tries to hurt Ima? I will destroy them. Have I made myself clear?''


    The others paused. Leah and Caleb glanced at each other, their expressions heavy with despair, and Leo covered his face with his hands. Anthon just looked at me, and I met his gaze unfalteringly until his eyes dropped to the ground.


    ''Fine. There''s not much I can say to any of that, is there.'' He turned away from me and walked back to the rest of the Mahtillim, who were waiting back by the fire. ''There''s no point lingering here any longer, in that case. Pack your things tonight and make sure you get a good sleep, because tomorrow, we move again.''


    I walked away as a commotion broke out amongst the others in my tribe, and I headed towards the tunnels that I didn''t want to leave, away from the people I could never escape. For me, there was never any escape. But as long as there was breath in my body, I would make sure that nobody, nobody, ever got to hurt Ima again.

 Chapter 4

    Jesse/Prophecy


    ''Uughhh . . .''


    ''Jesse?''


    ''Uuuuugh no, no no, please stop it, it hurts, it hurts . . .''


    ''Jesse calm down, you''re just sleeping, it''s okay, Jess, you''re going to be okay . . .''


    ''NO . . .''


    ''Please, Jesse . . . Prophecy . . . Speak to us . . . Please speak to us . . .''


    ''No, please, make it stop¡ª''


    ''Omar, can''t you see it''s hurting him, please, you have to stop encouraging it¡ª''


    ''He''ll be fine Maya, he always is, this is too important.''


    ''You think our son is fine?!''


    ''PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP¡ª''


    ''Get Chief Harazi, the prophecy will be starting any second now¡ª''You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ''Listen. I will say this once, and once alone. The time for War is almost upon us. Look for the travellers, for those who are running, for they will find you, it is fate, it is written in the sand and the wind. They will arrive before the moon becomes half in the sky, so make sure to prepare, for once they come, it will be time to go. For They are coming, and the robustans won''t be ready, and you won''t be either unless action is taken. The Creatures, they are coming, and when they do, so shall the next Great War begin. You must unite the tribes against them, or be warned ¨C you stand no chance. The next Great War is coming.''


    I opened my eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out¡ª


    Wait. I''m not finished. Jesse, let me speak.


    No. Not your turn. I''m going to be sick, you can''t do this to me when I''m awake¡ª


    I said . . . LET. ME. SPEAK.


    No. I said no¡ª


    LET ME SPEAK, LET ME SPEAK, LET ME SPEAK¡ª


    Stop it, I can''t think. Stop, please . . .


    LET ME SPEAK LET ME SPEAK LET ME SPEAK LET ME SPEAK¡ª


    ''Uuuugh . . . my head . . .''


    ''Jesse? Oh, Jesse . . .''


    My eyes were open, but I could not see. Blind, I stumbled out of bed and crashed to the floor. My mother knelt beside me as I cradled my head in my arms and knees, rocking as the screaming, like sirens, grew louder and louder¡ªlet me speak let me speak let me speak¡ªand I hid my face so she wouldn''t see my tears. But then she put her arms around me, and for a moment I was safe, and I raised my head towards her as the tears streaked down my cheeks.


    ''Make it stop,'' I whispered. ''Please, just for a second, make it stop . . .''


    ''Oh, Jesse, if only I could,'' Mum cried, and she pressed her forehead against my own and together, for sanity, we wept.