SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

That’s what people called Hedron’s people. To Chancery they were all just different sorts of people. She had to avoid them unless someone was around to look after her. Her mum, then Annabel, now Hedron.

"Oh," Chancery said.

"I heard that’s why they went into the sea at first. To get away from it. Now the only one who can stay here is you. It’s so sad."

That was the way Chancery and Hedron liked it. "Are you hungry?"

There was a pause. "I could eat."

Kay sat at the kitchen table while Chancery finished and plated up. Her unbroken attention made Chancery’s hands tremble as she positioned vegetables in a delicate garden salad and finished with a warm dressing of rosehip vinegar and hazelnut oil. She put the plate in front of Kay and poured her a glass of oak leaf wine. Kay speared a carrot and sucked it off her fork with a loud slurp that made Chancery flinch.

"How do you make a carrot taste so good?" she asked.

Chancery served rabbit loin braised in a broth of dried leaves and mushrooms, accompanied by its own sautéed, sliced heart, and roasted venison marrow on a bed of succulent moss. Kay went into raptures over the loin and the heart, slurping and sucking on every piece, but didn’t touch the rest.

"I get paid a lot—and I mean a lot —and I couldn’t afford to eat somewhere serving food like this," she said.

For dessert, Chancery offered a honeyed apple tart with damson liqueur.

"You’re too talented to waste out here," Kay said. “Chance—” She hesitated. "We’re closing the depot. The profit margins are thin and the company’s worried." Her fingers alternated like legs on the tabletop.

"No Oiler has walked recently." Hedron would have mentioned it.

"I want you to come home with me. Please. There might not be a next time."

Chancery cleared the table.

"Talk to me," Kay said.

"I need to get the dishes done."

"Leave those. They’re not important."

This was clearly wrong. Chancery ignored it.

"Dammit, Chance!" Kay’s outburst shocked Chancery into tears, and she dropped the glass she was holding. It shattered. "When we met you were about ten kilos heavier and I could talk to you. You didn’t make much sense, but you’d talk. You’re eating plants and twigs. You look like you’d snap in a breeze. You reacted to Rob like a child reacts to a stranger, and I can barely get a word out of you. You’re only twenty-five. You’re wasting away."

Her chair scraped, grating on Chancery’s spine, and a moment later Chancery recoiled at the touch of hands on her shoulders.

"I don’t want to upset you, but you can’t stay here by yourself."

"I’m not by myself." She had to force the words out between choked sobs.

"Skook’s a dog. You need someone to take care of you. You need people."

"I don’t! I’ve got Hedron."

Kay’s hands stiffened. "Hedron? Oh, Chance. He’s not real."

Fresh tears stung Chancery’s eyes. Her gut burned and her skin turned cold as fresh fish. "You said he was as real as anything."

She’d fought so long with Hedron, pleading to be allowed to tell Kay about him, so she would understand why it was safe to visit. Kay was the closest thing to Annabel Chancery had found.

"Real to you. He helped you cope with being the only survivor. But when they close the depot you’ll be alone out here."

Broken glass glittered in the sink and found its way into Chancery’s heart. "I need to get the dishes done."

Kay blew a sigh then patted Chancery’s shoulders, making her shudder. "We’ll talk again tomorrow. I’m really tired. I’m going to bed."

"Your room’s freshly made," Chancery said, and wondered if there was a way to make the last ten minutes not have happened.

Chancery was woken by the door opening. The room was black, save for the bright rectangle of moonlight on the window frame. She listened so hard the soft pad of footsteps stroked her eardrums.

The bed heaved when Kay climbed under the duvet. She slid her hand around Chancery’s waist then up to nestle between her breasts. Lips pressed against her spine, pliant and moist, a patch of heat that blew cold when the kiss moved on. Chancery felt herself flush warm and tingly, even as her skin prickled in the draught. She tangled her fingers around Kay’s hand and brought it to her lips so she could kiss her fingertips.

She breathed deep, and Kay’s scent was thick and dense. She kissed Kay’s palm, pushing her tongue against it to taste her skin.

Kay’s breathing slowed and her arm became slack. Chancery kissed her hand once more then put it back against her chest, holding it tight.

She slid out of bed quietly, so as not to wake Kay. It was early, still dark. She had chores to do.

"Why do you think she brought all this if she wants you to go with her?" Hedron asked when she entered the kitchen. He was hunched over the pile, all elbows and knees and furious angles. Chancery gaped at him. She had never seen his hat so filthy. Looking at it made her bones quiver and burn. It made her want to run.

"You need to sort your hat, Hedron."

"Answer the question."

Chancery shrugged. "I don’t know."

"To show you what you’re missing." He jabbed an accusing finger at the pile. "Olive oil and Belgian chocolate. Saffron, Chancery. She doesn’t think lichen and leaf broth can compete with white truffle and cinnamon."

Chancery cracked the lid on a pot of pimenton dulce and sniffed. The heady aroma’s physical presence conjured a forgotten happy memory: Annabel making a mess of spaghetti carbonara with chorizo in their tiny kitchen, laughing as the sun turned her hair to spun gold.

No one since Annabel had kissed her until Kay did.

Chancery hugged herself, remembering the feel of someone else’s skin.

"You and Skook could come, too."

"You know what would happen." He held out his arms like a scarecrow and pirouetted. "All those people. This is our home and you belong here, with us, where we can keep you safe. She doesn’t love you like we do."

All those people . How many more would walk if she did?

Part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to because they all would.

"You shouldn’t have bothered putting the stuff away," Kay said around a mouthful of toast piled with fish and egg. She poured more coffee and tapped her satellite phone. "They’ve moved the departure date. I have to take you back tomorrow."

"I can’t."

"What?"

"All those people. I can’t."

Kay rummaged in her bag. "I have something for you." She produced an envelope. Chancery took it and read the letter inside. "It’s an offer of a place in the kitchen at the Sanctuary in Bergen," she said, as if Chancery were too stupid and damaged to understand it. "It’s an amazing opportunity." Chancery felt faint. The restaurant’s recipe book was one of her favourites. "You’d have to go through quarantine, but that only takes a week. I know you’re scared of being amongst people again, but you’d adapt. I think you’d blossom."

Outside, Hedron was talking to the chickens. The volcano smouldering on his head made Chancery nauseous, itchy, and restless. She shivered.

"I belong here," she whispered.

"Don’t you get it, Chance? Do you know how selfish you’re being?"

Skook ambled over. She rubbed his ears and he licked her arm.

"You’ve been out here for five years and you haven’t Walked. You’re the only one. You could help people come back."

Chancery put her arms around Skook’s neck and pressed her face against him, her chest tight and painful. There was a long silence.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Skook’s fur grew damp under her cheek.