20 Years Later (6 page)

“I reckon Jay wants to see ya,” he said, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

“Okay,” Zane replied, remaining sunny despite the reception. Perhaps he could help fix whatever was making him so bad tempered.

The murmur of the gathered Boys dissipated as he approached, and the ones nearest to him moved apart to open a way to Jay in the middle. Zane noticed the absence of nods and smiles and regretted coming to visit.

“Hello,” he said, smiling despite his nervousness.

“Zane,” Jay said, straightening to his full height. “Funny you should come over now. We were just talkin' 'bout you.”

The Boys closed in behind Zane, forming a tight circle around him and the young gang leader. Zane's mouth went dry. “Me?” he replied, trying his best to stop his voice cracking under the tension. He failed.

“Yup. See, we was wonderin' sommat, and now you're 'ere, maybe you could give us some answers.”

“Um, okay.”

“Yesterday, you did sommat weird. That Gardner, when he was dyin', you touched him. On the chest.”

Zane nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I did.” There was no point denying it; they had all seen it happen.

“The thing with Gardners,” Jay said louder, with more showmanship, “is that the only way to touch them is with the sharp end of yer knife, right, Boys?”

“Right!” several of them cheered.

“And, the thing about that,” Jay continued, “is it ain't to do nothin' but kill 'em. We don't stick 'em with our knives to be nice, do we, Boys?”

“No!” more joined in, some snickering.

“You ain't got a knife, Zane,” Jay rounded on him. “And you didn't look like you were tryin' to kill 'im.” He let the statement hang in the air. “So what I wanna know is, if ya didn't
wanna kill 'im, what the hell were you doin'?”

Zane's stomach cramped with tension. He curled his hands into fists and thrust them into his pockets so Jay wouldn't see them shaking. “I … I don't know. He was hurt –”

“I know!” Jay interrupted. “I was the one that done it!”

There was a mixture of cheers and laughter from the assembled, but Jay didn't look amused. Zane swallowed, peeling his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“Mark 'ere,” Jay jerked a thumb at one of the tallest Boys, “says you threw up when the Gardner died.”

Zane nodded slowly. “Y-yes … I was sick.”

Jay scowled. “Why?”

“Um … because of the … the blood,” Zane replied, unable to think of anything else to say that wasn't the truth, and he didn't feel that here, right now, was the time to tell them about his strange experience.

“Bollocks!” Jay exclaimed. “You an' Miri stitch us up all the time–you see blood nearly every day!” He took a step closer. “I'd 'ate to think you were lyin' to me, Zane. I can't stand a liar.”

Zane struggled to draw a breath; it felt like his chest had seized up. Jay stared at him and the circle of Boys closed in a step. Zane could feel a tremor in his knees.

“See, Zane, I got a problem 'ere,” Jay continued when the boy said nothing. “Cos I like ya, and I think ya mum's ace. And that's good for you, cos if that weren't true, you'd be pasted on the side of that buildin' over there.” Mark picked that moment to crack his knuckles. “But the thing is, you looked like you were goin' soft on that Gardner. And that worries me, Zane, it worries me.”

“I … I don't want you to worry, Jay,” Zane replied, his voice wavering.

“That's good, Zane, that's good,” Jay said, planting a
hand on his shoulder and gripping it firmly. “None of us want that. But I know what I saw, and so I want proof you're not gonna start goin' soft on them Gardners when they start on us again.”

Zane's throat felt like it was closing. “Proof?”

“Go get one of their ties for Jay!” said Grame, sparking a round of jeering agreement from the circle.

“Don't be daft,” Jay dismissed. “He's too soft to stab a live one.” As the Boys laughed, Jay pointed at the barricade. “But he could practise on the one they left behind.”

Zane's throat burned as bile rose up from his twisting stomach. He'd never been near a dead body before; his mother had made sure of that. But he had read about it in the medical books at home. He thought of the Gardner Jay had tossed over the other side the day before, how the body would be cold and stiff by now.

Zane swallowed hard as Jay continued, a chilling smile spreading across his face like a dark cloud on a spring day. “I'll letchya borra me knife, can't say fairer than that.” Jay drew one of the pair, tilted the blade to capture the last of the evening sunlight. “Go over and stab the body, Zane.”

“Yeah! Stab it!” Boys yelled around him, building themselves up into a chant. “Stab it! Stab it!”

Jay leaned in close to him, holding up a hand to quiet the gang. “You bring the blade back clean, I'll know you're soft on 'em. We'll all know.”

The Boys looked from Jay to Zane again, the tension twisting its thick strands tightly between them all. Zane looked at Jay's belt, thinking of all the men who must have been hurt or killed for Jay to have that many ties. He thought of his mother and what he'd promised her. He saw her face when Callum brought him back, how worried she'd been. What if there were Gardners on the other side of the barrier, hiding, waiting for a Boy to climb down and get rid of the body?

“He can't hurt ya!” Mark yelled, frustrated by Zane's hesitation. “He's dead already!”

The Boys laughed and the shoving resumed. Jay turned the knife to present the handle to Zane.

“Do it, Zane!” Grame yelled and the Boys echoed him. “Do it! Do it!”

Jay's face twisted into a cruel sneer. “Why don't you just say that you're too scared?”

Zane took a deep breath, mindful of the Boys closing in around him. Jay needed his mum too much to hurt him, but he also knew that if he didn't do this, they would make his life miserable. Swallowing down another surge of nausea, he reached for the blade.

“JAY!” The bellow came from the north end of the square. Jay's head snapped around to see Callum cradling a limp body in his arms with a familiar shock of ginger hair. “Jay! Come here! I've found Dev and he's alive!”

In moments the knife was sheathed and the challenge forgotten as all raced over to Callum. Jay snatched Dev from his offering arms and shook him gently.

“Dev? Dev!” he called but Dev didn't stir.

“Cor, what's that on his face?” one of the Boys exclaimed as Zane struggled to push his way past them all to see how his friend was.

The Boys made it hard for him; elbows jabbed into his sides, and they were slow to move aside as he pushed at them. He finally broke through to see two gashes, one on each of Dev's cheeks, describing a line from near the corners of his mouth to the outer edges of his cheekbones. The cuts didn't seem too deep, but what was alarming was their intense red colour, too garish to be just blood. It not only sat within the line of the cuts but had also seeped out into the skin of his cheeks, tiny cracks of dark red like fractures on the porcelain glaze of his pale face.

“She marked him!” Jay snarled with such rage that many of the Boys closest to him backed away without even realising what they were doing.

“Let's take him to Mum,” Zane suggested and Jay nodded, immediately breaking into a run.

“You lot stay 'ere,” he called back to the gang. “And keep watch for that bitch's Hunters.”

Callum drifted after Zane and Jay as they hurried over to Miri's square, keeping his distance but eager to see what was happening.

Zane wasn't surprised to see his mother opening the door as they arrived; the sound of their footsteps had reverberated off the surrounding buildings like heralds' trumpets.

“He won't wake up, Miri!” Jay exclaimed, and she beckoned them into the house.

They gently laid Dev down on the sofa, the front door left open in their haste. Callum stood just outside of the door frame, looking in but also trying hard not to be noticed.

Miri carefully checked Dev's airways and breathing, monitored his pulse, and loosened the layers of clothing as best she could.

“He's dead pale,” Jay said, hovering nearby like a nervous father.

Miri simply nodded, glancing at Zane and noting how intensely he was staring at Dev. “Check his leg, Mum, it's hurt,” he muttered whilst pointing to his left calf.

She pulled up the trouser leg and revealed a clean, tightly wrapped bandage. “Perhaps this is where that arrow hit,” she said. “They've bandaged it well.”

Zane nodded, staring at it intently. “The wound's clean,” he said quietly as Miri shuddered at his odd behaviour.

Jay looked at Zane, confused. “How'd you know? You can't even see it.”

Dev moaned quietly, and Miri caught hold of his hand
gently, distracting Jay. She stroked the back of it, very softly calling Dev's name.

Dev's eyelids struggled open and he looked up at the trio with bloodshot eyes. “Watchya,” he murmured in a shaky voice.

“Thought you were dead, Dev,” Jay said affectionately.

“Nah,” Dev croaked back, “but I think I might've been for a bit.” He began to reach up to his face but Miri caught hold of his hand and gently pushed it down again.

“Your cheeks are cut. Don't touch them or they'll get infected.”

“That why they're itching?”

She nodded, smoothing back hair from his forehead tenderly. “They'll get better soon.”

“Whaddya remember?” Jay asked, kneeling down next to Miri.

“I nearly got it Jay, honest-like!” he murmured sleepily.

“Never mind that now,” Jay replied, fighting a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You've been gone a few days–what happened?”

Dev seemed genuinely surprised. “I have? Only remember the banner … and me leg killing me.”

“Nothing about the Red Lady?”

Dev jolted like a tiny bolt of lightning had hit him, and his eyes opened wide. He began to speak, but his voice was devoid of any of its normal inflection. “If one of the Bloomsbury Boys enters my territory again, they will be killed on sight. Let the marks on this one remind you of that every day.”

All three of them drew back, staring at Dev warily. But then he relaxed and looked around at them after blinking a couple of times. “What?” he asked confused, with his normal voice.

Jay and Miri exchanged a look. Callum tugged at the bottom of his beard and shuffled a little. Zane mustered a smile and said “Nothing, Dev. It's alright. We're just so glad to see you again.”

After she had fed him and fussed over him for a while, Miri insisted that Dev spend the night at her house in front of the fire. Jay agreed reluctantly, promising to return to collect him the next day. Callum slipped away before anyone had the chance to thank him, much to Zane's disappointment. As Dev slept on the sofa, he brooded over Jay's challenge but didn't tell his mother. He didn't want to see her worried face again.

The next day dawned bright and clear, the weather holding fine and promising a good harvest. Jay kept to his word and collected a groggy and still mostly bewildered Dev from Miri's care. Zane hung back, nervous that Jay would hint at the day before, but he said nothing. But just as he was leaving, he said, “Zane, give us a hand with Dev 'ere, will ya?”

He obeyed, wanting his mother to think everything was fine. He said nothing as he steered Dev out of the house and along the garden.

“I spoke to the Runners,” Jay said quietly as they reached the edge of Miri's square. Zane nodded. The Runners were a good choice, being the only people who could move between gang territories. They took messages between the gangs in return for clothes, food, and sometimes shelter in the winter. He was glad it wasn't the life he led. “I got them keeping an eye out for your Giant. I wanna know if he's been in any other places.” Zane breathed out in relief, thankful that the challenge wasn't revived. “My Boys are watchin' for him too,” Jay added, then lowered his voice even further. “They'll be watchin' you too.
I ain't forgotten.” He tugged at Dev's collar. “C'mon you, keep up.”

Shaken, Zane returned to his mother, relieved that away from the Bloomsbury Boys the morning was taking on the feel of any normal day. He knew that he would have to face Jay and the rest of them again at some point, but right now, all he wanted to think about was the soil and the plants and his mother's instructions. Everything else just felt confusing and difficult.

Together they worked in the garden, focused on the business of survival. Only a shadow falling over them stopped their industry. Miri plunged the trowel in the soil and left it there when she saw who it was.

The man nodded to her and she stood, wiping her hands on her long skirt and glancing over at Zane nervously. It was one of the Hunters from the Red Lady's gang, none other than the Red Lady's Champion, Luthor. He stood over six and half feet tall with calf muscles wider than Zane's whole thigh and biceps as big as Zane's head. Like all of her Hunters, he wore leather trousers that were deep red, rumoured to have been dyed by the blood of slaughtered enemies. His stout boots were made of the same red leather and he wore a plain hand-woven linen shirt underneath the red leather bracers on his arms. He was clean shaven and his dark blonde hair was scraped back tightly and plaited into a thick braid that reached the top of his thighs.

Luthor turned up like this once every two months without fail, coming to the garden with a small wooden box tucked under his arm. Usually, he would ignore Zane, but go with his mother into the house, and she would put something in the box. Then he'd leave, often without saying one word to Zane. He had given up asking what was put in the box; his mother always said that it was a “private arrangement” between her and the Red Lady. His favourite theories were that it was tea or herbs to
treat some terrible disease; though what that could be, he had no idea. He had never seen anyone be ill, not like in the medical books he read anyway.