The Hunt (11 page)

Julie seemed reluctant to say anything unless asked a direct question, so Mara tried drawing her out.

“Tell me something about yourself. How old are you? You don't look old enough to be drafted.”

“
I'm almost not,” responded Julie. “I only turned twenty-one three months ago.”

“
You barely look eighteen.”

“
I know. I still wear my own clothes sometimes, and nobody ever checks my ID. I realise I'm taking a risk, but I hate skirts.”

“Me too. But you should be careful. I was caned for going out in jeans.”

“I have a cousin who escaped from Israel, and she told me that after the ultra-Orthodox took over, women weren't even allowed to wear trousers in their own homes. The religious police could enter any time to make sure they were properly dressed. Women are banned from reading novels and singing in public there as well. I love reading and I'm a singer, so on the whole I'd rather live here, despite the Hunt.”

“
I'd never have guessed you were a singer.”

“
I become a different person onstage. My boyfriend has a band called Get to Know Your Rabbit. I sing with them, and wrote one of their songs. We don't have a recording deal yet, but we're getting a lot of club bookings.”

“
Do you live in London?”

“
Yeah. I live with my parents in Ealing, but I'm hoping to move in with my boyfriend later this year. Where do you live?”

“
Caledonian Road. It's near St. Pancras.”

“
St. Pancras is great. We performed in a club there once.”

“
How about singing your song for me?”

“
You need to hear it with the music.”

Mara made a comical pleading face and said,
“Oh pleeease!”

Julie couldn't help laughing.
“Okay, but it really won't be the same.” She leaned back, closed her eyes, and began humming. Then one of the most exquisite voices Mara had ever heard filled the dark apartment.

“There is a house on the edge of town.

It's been there forever, so they say.

I've never once been inside it,

Though I pass it every single day.

My friends all believe it's haunted

By ghosts and spirits of the past.

But the only ghosts I'm afraid of

Are those of a life that will not last.

I know some day I must enter this house,

And leave behind everything that's me.

But until then I think I'll keep passing by,

Trying to pretend that I am free.
”

Mara was moved to tears. “That's beautiful. But it's so sad.”

“
Yet I'm not a sad person,” said Julie, more to herself than to Mara. She shook her head, as if suddenly remembering where she was. “Well, I am at the moment, but not normally.”

“
What does the house represent? Death?”

“
It could be. But it's more than that. Loss of identity, loss of individuality. Death is the ultimate loss of individuality.”

“
You say that one day you must enter the house. Does that mean you see loss of individuality as inevitable, even before death?”

“
I guess so. It's hard for me to explain. I'm much better at expressing these things in lyrics and poems.”

Mara hesitated a moment before asking,
“Are we in the house now?”

“
No...not yet...I don't know. Let's talk about something else. What do you do?”

“
I write too, actually. I'm a novelist.”

Julie was excited by this.
“Should I have heard of you?”

“
Of course you should,” said Mara with a grin. “But you won't have done. All my books are banned by the British censor.”

“
Why?”

“
They're about a female private detective named Melissa Valance. The powers that be don't like books which show women acting independently. I suppose they think it might give people the wrong idea about our place in society.”

“
I don't understand why men hate women so much in this country. I'm sure it's not like that everywhere. It didn't even used to be like that here.”

“
I think it was always like this, here and most other places. It's all on the surface now. But if you study history, you'll find misogyny existed in some form at all periods. I have a friend who's a film critic. She once showed me Ingmar Bergman's
The Serpent's Egg
. It's set in Germany during the nineteen-twenties, and there's a scene in which a character claims that anyone willing to make the slightest effort could see what was going to happen in the next decade, the Nazi era. He says it's like a serpent's egg. Through the thin membranes you can clearly discern the already perfect reptile. Everyone thinks Britain was so civilised earlier this century. But there's never been any shortage of politicians wanting to control women's bodies. Abortion was legal for a while, but conservative MPs were constantly trying to restrict abortion rights, and they finally won the battle. Abortion was never legalised in Ireland. Even the uniform isn't a new idea. In some places, women had to wear abayas or burquas which completely covered their faces whenever they left home. And back then, there was something called Female Genital Mutilation. Do you know what that is?”

Julie shook her head.

“It's almost unbelievable. Certain parents - motivated by vague notions of religion, honour and tradition - would make their daughters take part in ceremonies where they were forcibly restrained while a razor blade was used to remove their clitoris, inner labia and outer labia. Parents who were particularly religious, honourable or traditional demonstrated these qualities by obliging girls - who had absolutely no say in the matter - to undergo infibulation. After everything had been cut away, whatever skin remained was stretched across the vagina and stitched together, leaving only a small hole for urine and menstrual blood. All this was usually done without anaesthetic. Technically the practice was illegal, but it obviously had the tacit approval of the British authorities. Thousands of women were mutilated every year, but there wasn't a single prosecution. The Hunt seems almost mild by comparison. The most these bastards are allowed to do is pierce us with needles.”

“
You don't think they'd really do anything like that, though, do you? I read the Hunt pamphlet, but I can't believe they'd actually do those things.”

“
I think we need to be as careful as possible not to let them find us.”

Julie removed the bottle of water from her pocket and took a drink. Mara couldn't see clearly in the dark, but after Julie replaced the cap and placed the bottle on the floor, Mara picked it up and shook it. From the sound, she guessed it was almost empty. She desperately wanted a drink herself, but the deviousness of the Hunt planners' scheme was only now becoming apparent to her. Food and particularly drink were essential to survival, yet women taking part in the Hunt could only use a vending machine every six hours, obtaining just a
single food item and a single drink item. And these small packages provided little more than token nourishment or refreshment. So even if a woman managed to remove her tracking device and find a relatively safe hiding place, she'd still need to go outside and use a vending machine at least once a day. And the Hunters would undoubtedly be staking out these machines, waiting for potential victims. Throw body heat detectors, infra-red goggles and Tasers into the mix, and a cynic might conclude that the decks in this particular game were not stacked in the women's favour.

Mara picked up her own bottle of water. Turning to Julie she said,
“We need to make the water last as long as possible. I'm going to have a small sip now, and we can share the rest tomorrow morning.”

Julie nodded,
she didn't have to be reminded what was at stake.

Mara took the smallest sip possible, but even that drained more than a third of the contents. Reluctantly putting the bottle's cap securely back on, she set it down near where they were sitting. Neither woman felt particularly hungry, so the sandwiches remained in their pockets.

After a few minutes of silence, Mara stood up and looked out the window. The streets were dark, though lighted windows in the Hunters' apartment block, the one building with electricity, could be seen in the distance. Mara wondered if any of her comrades had already been caught, and were undergoing torture at that very moment. Perhaps the Hunters were still running around like headless chickens trying to work out how their designated victims had managed to penetrate the sewer system. The thought made her smile. She'd suggested splitting up into groups of two so one person could stand guard, but there was obviously no point staring out the window all night, since nothing could be seen down below. She returned to Julie, who had fallen asleep. The girl's body had probably responded to her fear by shutting down and providing some much needed rest. Mara sat on the floor and laid Julie's head on her shoulder, being careful not to disturb her. She didn't expect to get any sleep that night, but it was a relief to be resting quietly. She regretted having referred to Yuke as a friend. She trusted Julie, but suspected the girl would feel uncomfortable being in close physical proximity to someone who might desire her sexually. In truth, Mara's feelings towards Julie were purely protective. But she really must stop thinking of her as 'the girl'. Julie was no child, and would need the strength of an adult to cope with this ordeal. On that thought, Mara drifted into a deep sleep.

Chapter 8

Saturday March 24th

Mara awoke soon after the sun rose. Julie had somehow ended up with her head on Mara's lap, and Mara decided to let her sleep a little longer, relishing the calm atmosphere, however false she knew it to be. She longed for a drink, but was determined to at least wait until Julie had woken up. After half an hour, Julie began to stir. Mara noticed she was smiling, and guessed that, in this state of half sleep, she'd forgotten where she was. Unsurprisingly, the smile quickly vanished, and was replaced by a look of tension as reality came flooding in. Mara stroked Julie's hair and said, “Good morning,” as the girl opened her eyes.

Julie sat up and said
“Good morning,” in return, then asked, “Can I have some water?”

Mara reached for the bottle, saying,
“This is all we have left. I'll drink half, then you drink half. After that, we'll need to find more.” She opened the bottle and carefully took a sip before lowering it. It barely quenched her thirst - what must it be like taking part in a Hunt during the hot days of summer? - but she was pleased to see plenty remained for Julie. The girl accepted the bottle gratefully. She obviously felt guilty about so quickly exhausting her own supply. They were both hungry, and quickly devoured the pathetically small sandwiches.

Mara walked back to the window. Now that the sun was up, she could see the street below. This was the first time she'd realised that the window of their apartment faced the rear rather than the front of the building. An identical apartment block was located directly opposite, on the other side of the wide street, a vending machine positioned near its entrance. Mara pointed out the machine to Julie, who volunteered to go down and bring back food and drink. Mara shook her head.
“If anything, we'll go down together. That way we can take two bottles.”

Julie looked Mara directly in the eyes, a rare sign of assertiveness.
“If we go out together, there's a greater chance we'll both be caught. If I go alone, you can keep watch from the window and signal me in case of danger. We can easily last until tomorrow on one bottle of water and one sandwich, and then it'll be your turn to go outside.”

Mara had to admit this plan made sense, so she reluctantly agreed.
“But first,” she suggested, “let's see what we can find in this building. If we're lucky, we might come across some old bottles of water. They won't taste good, but they should be drinkable.” They decided Julie would search the floor they were occupying while Mara explored the one below.

As she entered the stairwell, Mara peered nervously over the
banisters. She had no intention of becoming complacent. Walking as quietly as possible, she descended to the nineteenth floor. She tried every apartment, paying particularly close attention to the ones that were still locked. But forcing open even such flimsy doors was hard work, and she found only dust behind them. At least the rooms whose doors had already been forced, showed signs of human activity, such as old newspapers, empty cans, and a couple of pillows. There were no liquids of any kind, nor anything edible. Mara picked up the pillows: they were filthy, but would make sleeping on the floor more comfortable. Continuing the search seemed pointless, so she returned to the top floor and found Julie walking empty-handed out of a room at the corridor's end. Her quest had proved equally fruitless.

Back inside the apartment, Mara had to admit it would be necessary to risk using the vending machine. She insisted on first standing by the window staring at the street for half an hour, looking for signs of Hunter activity. So far as she could see, the area was deserted. She once again offered to be the first to venture outside, but Julie was determined to accept this responsibility. Eventually, they decided to play rock-paper-scissors, and Julie's scissors beat Mara's paper.