C Fletcher - A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World

If they’re going to make us strip, you’re going to find out soon enough, I said.

Why tell me now? he said. He really looked angry for some reason.

Because I’ll make you a deal, I said. You’re a trader, right?

Griz, he said. These Cons, they’re…

I know what breeding means, I said. I don’t think he heard the crack in my voice. You’re still thinking I’m a young kid because my beard hasn’t come in. I’m older than you think, remember?

He nodded. I’ve never seen a face that split the way his did. Like half of it was fascinated and couldn’t tear itself away, and the other half wanted to be anywhere but where it was.

So, I want to make a trade, I said.

Griz, all that you’ve got to trade, they’re going to take anyway, he said.

Here’s the deal, I said. They’re going to see I’m a girl. Then they’re going to wait and see if I’ve got la pest .

La what? he said.

The plague, I said, moving on fast before he started asking questions that would lead to my time with John Dark. Once I’m out of quarantine, they’re going to want me as one of their breeders, right?

Right, he said. I’m sorry.

He looked so hangdog I wanted to believe him. Almost did.

So there’s nothing we can do about that, I said. That’s just going to happen.

Again I think he missed the shake in my voice. I cleared my throat to cover up and make sure.

The deal is this: when I’m out, and not locked up in here, you steal me and take me home.

He stared at me.

You think I’m a better man than I am, he said.

I do, I said. I think you’re a better man than you think you are.

I hadn’t listened to him without learning a few tricks. A little sweetness to ease things along. No harm in making him feel good about himself.

But that’s not what I’m relying on, I said. What I’m relying on is you doing what’s best for you. Making a better trade than they could offer you for anything.

Like what? he said

You know the other thing you don’t know about me, I said, reaching inside my shirt. What else you don’t know about my family?

No, he said.

No, you don’t, I said, and I pulled out the key and showed him.

We’re Freemen.

I showed him the symbol on the key.

Do you know what this symbol means?

He leant forward and stared at it.

Infinity, he said. And the moment he did, I realised that the eight was in fact not an eight at all, but meant to be read on its side, not standing up. It was the symbol for infinity.

How do you know? I said.

Because I’ve seen it before, he said. It means infinite in all directions.

Exactly, I said. And do you know what lies behind the doors this can open?

Dead electric brains, he said. Broken computers.

No, I said. Not everywhere. You save me, I’ll take you to a place where medicines are stocked that still work. Where there is some old tech that still functions.

He stared at me.

Or leave me here and I’ll make the same deal with them, I said. I’d rather you helped me, because you’ve got a boat, but I can take them the long way overland and I’m sure that’ll be fine too.

Old tech that works, he said. Like what?

Screens that move, show pictures and stories. Little computers that still compute. Electric compasses, binoculars that pull the horizon into your lap and make pictures of it you can look at later. Music players.

I was running out of things to tempt him with.

You think that I would need a trade to try and help you, he said. His voice sounded a little hurt.

Yes, I said. You told me. You’re a trader. This is a good trade.

You don’t think I would try and help you just because these are bad people? he said.

I’d like to, I said. I’d really like to. In fact you have no idea how much I’d like to. But my experiences with you so far don’t make me think that’d be a good idea. And like you said, I’m not a fool.

He stared at me.

You were at least correct about that one thing, I said.

He took a deep breath.

This is going to take some doing, he said. And we’re going to have to work out how to play this before they get here.

You’re right, I said.

Music players? he said.

I nodded.

He was hooked.

Until I met Brand, I didn’t think I’d met anyone who told lies. As a result, I wasn’t very good at knowing how to deal with them. But that was then. This is now, and here’s what I know about them: when liars say they’re going to tell you the truth, it’s time to listen extra carefully to their stories—not because they’re going to try and hide the truth inside them, but because the truth’s not going to be there at all. The real truth is going to be in the things they don’t mention. So if you listen to the shape of their lie, you can see the room it takes up, and then you look for the truth in the empty spaces in between.

You used the map to get here, said Brand.

Yes, I said.

And where is it now? he said.

It doesn’t matter, I said. I didn’t want to tell him or anyone about Jip and the horses. Not yet. Not until I had to.

You can’t let them find it, he said. I’m serious.

Okay, I said. They’re not going to find it. Not unless I tell them where it is.

If I told them where to go to untie Jip and see to the horses, they would find it. I couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t look through my bags. I just didn’t see any point telling him that. He looked at me and shook his head. I suppose liars are good at spotting other lies and half-truths.

Griz, he said, if they find that map, you’re dead.

That’s not a very good way to start our agreement, I said. Not by threatening me.

I’m not threatening, he said. I’m warning. I’m trying to help. If they find that map in your possession, they are going to think you did something very bad. And they will punish you for it.

I thought for a bit. Trying to see the shape of what he was saying.

You mean you did something bad, I said. I took the map from you. If it’s evidence that you did something bad, I’ll just tell them that.

And I’ll tell them you’re lying, he said. I wouldn’t want to, but if you told them that, I’d have to. Just a matter of survival.

Your word against mine, I said.

They know me, he said. They trust me. I bring them stuff they like. Stuff they need. They found you sneaking around. Hiding things from them.

Like being a girl, I said.

That, he said, but mostly I meant being a Freeman.

I wondered then if I’d fallen into a trap of my own digging.

Last Freeman came through here killed people they cared about, he said. So they’re not going to be much disposed to like you or what you have to say. But, Griz…

He seemed like he was in mild pain as he paused and looked at me.

Griz, he said. This is a stupid conversation. We’re on the same side. I’d never betray you. Unless you betrayed me first. That’s all I’m saying. And like I tried to tell you—keeping the map out of their hands is just a matter of survival.

Sometimes Jip or Jess will look at me and make their eyes big, and it usually means they want some food but can’t get it, like if we’re on the boat and they can’t hunt their own meat. That’s what his eyes looked like. Soft and warm, despite the blueness of them. I made myself remember how quickly they could turn wintry.

Who died? I said.

I could make my eyes go wintry too.

I didn’t say anything else. I just waited him out. And he always hated silence. So eventually he moved closer, holding his hands open and palm up to show he meant no threat, and then he began to tell me another story, speaking quietly as if afraid someone outside might hear.