Sondranos: The Narrative of Leon Bishop (13 page)

Chapter
Seven:

Furtive
Transportation

The Belovores
had set up
a blockade at the southern tip
of the neighbourhood. I squinted to see them– eleven standing
together. Their chelimbs were extended, claws connected to one
another as the Belovores formed a circle around one of the landed
pods. Each Belovore focused on it with rock-steady intent. They
spoke with their larger hands as well as their mouths. I would
learn later that Belovore language is part guttural, part movement.
When a word doesn’t suffice for them, an action will. Sondranos
learned that the hard way.

After we secured a plan,
Annalise trundled through the tall grass first.

“
Do we really
want to go there?” Melanie asked.

Davion followed. “We have
survived thus far. We can make it further. Our Lords will provide
for our safety, provided we keep the faith they’ve instilled.”

Kayt slid her hand into mine,
gripped it, and we walked on.

Her eyes locked on to me, but I
knew she couldn’t have been any more distant. My hand was just
another hand; however, I could feel Lancaster’s eyes burning
through my back, as if I was next in line to be his competition. I
guess he hadn’t been all there when Kayt started with the social
faux-pas regarding my sexual orientation. Competition was still
competition.

Annalise’s house was far enough
away that the Belovores didn’t notice us. Eighteen single story
ranches stood between us and them – seven more if you counted the
small inlet around house number four leading inwards. Sneaking in
was like tiptoeing into a ghost town while all the ghosts conversed
on the outskirts.

Annalise’s backyard was empty
but well-tended. We climbed over a fence to enter. A blueberry bush
sat beneath a large net a few feet from where we’d climbed in. She
reached through the webbing, picked a couple, and popped them in
her mouth. She handed me one, and offered some to the rest, but I
was the only one who took one. The taste was as powerful as the
Blanc de Noirs, fresh and bittersweet.

The fence met large wooden
replacement boards on either end, and stood tall enough to cover
our entrance from the Belovores – even the neighbours, I assumed.
Lancaster was certain the Belovores had noticed and pushed Kayt in
front of him to speed her up. Clearing the backyard, a small ravine
separated Annalise’s house from the neighbours. When Annalise stuck
out her hand and stopped the group, I inched forward to get sight
on the Belovores from the open front. The yard continued to connect
both hers and the neighbour’s driveway, with only a yards distance
to the road. It was a patch of dark green sprinkled by small white
seeds.

A sudden glint of light stole
my attention to the house across the street. The shutters on a
window near the centre of the house snapped closed. Large bay
windows to the left of the front door and a garage connected to a
driveway which was skirted by a strip of grass – it was a mirror
replica of Annalise’s home. In fact, as I scanned the street up to
where the Belovores should have been – thankfully obscured by
another house and a portion of fence – I noticed that all the
houses were replicas. Even the colours were bland recreations of
yellow, blue and brown. The neighbours to the right had a set of
plastic ducks near their front door; the ones to their right had a
flag bearing the Sondranos insignia – a dome inside a crater, with
a star perched on top. I could only guess that Annalise had chosen
the blueberry bush as her way of keeping her home different. Maybe
her history in Beaumaris had insisted she plant it in the back, or
maybe she’d rather the berries stay in her possession. I found
myself craving more at the thought.

Davion went further. He stepped
up the short driveway as the rest waited at the garage. He stopped
at the mailbox, and nudged his head from side to side. He re-joined
me, whispering and confirming what I’d seen. “There’s no line of
sight – the Belovore’s mustn’t be able to see us. The Lord is
pleased.”

At the time, I was still
getting a handle on Davion’s religion – it felt weird, coming from
Earth to have someone of a particular faith providing support for
other faiths. Then again, he was getting what he needed; the drive
behind his words was never intended to belittle what the others
believed in, only strengthen it and provide a good case for his
own. Melanie nodded, so it was welcoming enough for her to put
aside her previous doubts and anger enough to accept. It was a good
strategy.

Annalise opened her arms
towards the house. It was a gesture that said ‘welcome to my humble
home’ without a placemat on the doorstep reading the same. We stood
before the garage, which was modest in that I doubt it ever held
anything but a single level car, or served any purpose but a
carport. The door hung on rusty hinges painted yellow in the last
touch-up. It groaned and creaked as Annalise pulled the handle. She
had to push it all the way up and hold it before the door stuck
open. Inside was the truck she’d mentioned. An old electric engine
- still plugged into the wall. The frame was light blue with
pockets of rust dressing up the skin. It could seat all six of us
comfortably, provided the three smaller of us sat in the back. The
interior was light grey with a small amount of hair on the
upholstery.

We shuffled in and looked
inside. Lancaster was more concerned with the tools and trinkets
lining the walls – a rake, a couple spades, and a digital toolbox
in the corner which switched on when Lancaster neared it, listing
the contents on a blue tinted holographic screen. Melanie admired
the underside of the trunk. If I recalled correctly, that’s where
the engine was for those brands. I started to pull the door down,
and it screamed when I pulled it no less than an inch.

A deathly silence overtook the
garage, and everyone watched me. I held the door up, refusing to
move. Annalise took the handle for me, and ushered me inside. She
winked, and jerked the door down hard and fast.

SKREEEEEE

We all cringed and held our
breath. Kayt looked near to a heart attack; Davion put his hands on
his head; Melanie and Lancaster turned red in the cheeks – one was
fright, the other was anger. Annalise let go of the handle and
jumped out of the way of the crashing door. Only, instead of a slam
of finality ensuring that the Belovore would find us, it caught in
a silent retrieval system. It slid back into place without a
whisper.

“
What makes
you think this one will work?” I asked, pointing to the
car.

Annalise responded, hands on
her hips: “The engine overheats. I disconnected the magnetic
guidance system a week ago to work on it and never set it back on,
so its ignition system wouldn’t have been fried when the strips
stopped. I guess anyone with a car in the shop might be discovering
the same right about now. If they’re alive and had a full charge
before power cut out. It should be able to run for ten, fifteen
hours if we can pop the circuit breaker in the trunk and trigger
the ignition.”

“
These kinds
of cars are illegal without a licence,” Lancaster said.

“
Is this what
you went to prison for?” Kayt asked.

“
No. But it
is how I got my dogs taken away.”

“
We should
get moving. There is no telling how long the Belovores will
maintain their position,” said Davion.

“
Right. I’m
not the best when it comes to Transit fuse-links. Hence why it
hasn’t left the garage in over a month. I could try, but if any of
you knows how to get those links up and running, tell me now and
you can have your way with my car. I was being incarcerated at the
time of the most recent developments, and this car just so happens
to have a deadman’s switch if it doesn’t work,” Annalise said. Kayt
nudged Lancaster, who shook his head.

“
Mel can take
care of it,” Davion spoke above us all. I could hear the preacher
in his voice straining to escape. Melanie stepped back, against the
wall. She shook her head and scoffed the comment away.

Davion didn’t take negativity
for an answer. “Your father taught you how to work with cars. He
taught you many things before he left, and insisted you could take
care of the family.”

“
It was the
only thing he ever did that was worth my time,” she
mumbled.

“
It mirrors
the current mode of transit,” he said. “We can do it with trial and
error. But you have the better chance.”

I winced. Annalise looked
around the room, having regretted asking. Kayt and Lancaster clung
to each other – rather, Lancaster held her, and she allowed herself
to be held. His arms draped around her shoulders and brought up the
front, barely touching her breasts. School-boy’s trick, I
thought.

Melanie mumbled. She cleared
her throat at Davion’s urging and nodded. I didn’t sense anger in
her voice, like I had since that morning. I sensed fear, maybe
loss. The kind of tone you get when you don’t want someone to know
that your confidence is built on an illusion of shattered
nerves.

“
I suppose I
can do it,” she said. She spied Davion. “My Dad taught me
how.”

“
Good,”
Annalise walked over to the side. A door connected to the interior
of the house. She picked up a small jar and tilted it on its side.
At first, the glass looked clear and empty. But a jangling when
Annalise tipped it to the side told me the glass was merely a
reflective surface – the kind sold in most Home Base shops on Earth
for people wishing to hide their keys. Annalise palmed what came
out and handed it to Melanie. It was the key to the car. She
smiled. “All yours.”

Melanie took it and started
towards the trunk, unlocking it and kneeling down to get a better
view of the fuse box. Davion tiptoed near her, and Melanie, for the
first time since I’d known her, looked to him for re-assurance. He
nodded, and whispered that she could do it, and added, “I have
faith in you.”

Annalise then looked at me.
“You and I are going to go stock up on provisions. Kayt and
Lancaster - I’m going to set you two up in the den so you can keep
an eye on the street in case the Belovores start coming. Davion?”
Annalise stopped when he raised his hand.

“
I will keep
Melanie company,” he said. “I’m sure there is much she wants to
talk about.” A tinkling of something metal hit the pavement beneath
the car, and Melanie picked it up just as fast as it had fallen. My
vision flashed, and suddenly Melanie and I were sitting back in the
cellar, with her digressing onto a topic of distrust for Davion.
She’d never intended on getting this far. But then, what did she
expect? I suppose, that question could have been asked by any one
of us. We all expected death, but carried on because we were too
afraid to ask why it hadn’t come for us.

With a second key hidden in her
palm, Annalise turned and opened the door inside. Instantly, the
smell of tomato soup and garlic assaulted my senses. My eyes
watered, and I craved more blueberries. Part of me hoped she’d
picked some that morning and had left some on the counter, like a
candy dish. Of course, the reason why I’d craved them doesn’t elude
me now. Then, I tasted them in the back of my throat. But now, I
can tell you what I couldn’t acknowledge then: Daniel makes the
best blueberry pies I’ve ever tasted. He adds a hint of cinnamon
from the Nova colony, even though the tariff on importing it is
pretty expensive. Often, it tastes just as fresh as the berries
picked right from Annalise’s bush.

The smell of soup and spice
pervaded the walls, but there was no garlic to be seen. Both odours
carried a hint of age with them, the spicy scent of Sondranos
preservatives. I’d smelled them first on the transport over here,
and confused them for curry spices. I’d never found curry served on
the menus, but suspected it wasn’t beyond passengers to pack their
own meals. In Annalise’s home, the scent made sense. Something
about it was comforting.

The door opened into a kitchen
decorated with vanilla wallpaper and a glass-side door that opened
to the backyard. Annalise’s bedroom sat at the end of a hallway
just shy of the door entering the kitchen. In a straight line, out
of the doorway from the kitchen was her office. Six bookshelves
lined the wall, with a desk fitted with a monitor of gel and
hardwiring. That room turned to the left and opened into the
sitting room, where the bay windows opened to the street. Inside
was a couch set against those same windows, and a loveseat propped
against the opposite wall. The vanilla colouring stretched the
entire interior. Hardwood panels acted as crown moulding against
the carpet and ceiling. It amazed me that, in such strange and
hostile territory, I could still feel comfortable within her house.
With what I’d learn later, it also surprised me that Annalise had
stuck it out there, and maintained such a homely atmosphere.

Annalise stopped me in the
kitchen, and led Kayt and Lancaster to the sitting room. There was
an island as tall as my waist where she’d stopped me. Behind it was
a range with an instant cooker slung above it. It had been
installed within the cabinets. Below the cabinets was a countertop
complete with kitchen knives, utensils and a teapot big enough for
six or seven cups. At the far end was a box of letters. Most looked
like bills and easily disposable electronic pads. I suppose she
didn’t have to worry about paying those any more.

I listened as Annalise slid her
blinds down. I crept around the corner to see what she was doing -
Annalise had twisted the bar on the blinds to close them, and
fingered two small wooden cuts open on each side so that Kayt and
Lancaster could look out. They both attended to their duty
silently, hardly looking at each other. Annalise clapped Lancaster
on the shoulder as she left. I returned to the kitchen and started
fumbling through a stack of mail on the nearest table. Returning,
she made a bee-line for the box of letters and pulled out a
few.