Chris Beckett - Dark Eden

In that respect, not just some people but most people were braver than John was. I mean, I liked to get my own way too, of course. Everybody knew that about me. I liked to get what I wanted. But the thing was, if I didn’t get it, well, I just tried something else. It didn’t scare me. I didn’t have that fear that he had, which he didn’t even know was there, that fear which made him hold everyone at a distance, that fear of not controlling things.

And now, all on his own, he’d decided to change the history of Eden forever. He hadn’t told me about it. He hadn’t told anyone about it. He chucked the stones in the stream all by himself, while I waited for him like a bloody idiot, not knowing what he was doing or why he was taking so long, and then he came up to Deep Pool and expected me just to accept what he’d done. He expected me to trust him. He expected me to support him and line up with him, even though he hadn’t trusted me enough even to tell me what he was planning. It’s that equal thing again. He just didn’t quite get it. He didn’t quite get that other people apart from him had their own thoughts and their own plans and their own things in their heads.

I was so angry with him about that. I mean, Michael’s names, I hated Any Virsries like he did. I hated Oldest and their remembering. I wouldn’t have cared if I never heard them go on about Angela and Tommy and lecky-trickity and that bloody Big Sky-Boat Defiant ever again, and I agreed with John that there was no point in going on and on about Earth all the time. So, if he’d discussed his idea with me, maybe I’d even have come round to it. But, Gela’s heart, just to decide on his own to bust Family apart, and then to come to me and expect me just to accept it and carry on with him and be beside him when Family found out? To expect me to share the shame and blame for something that I’d never even been told about? I don’t bloody think so.

I went back to Spiketree, trying not to catch the eye of the lookout for that sleeping, who was a bloke called Rog that was always trying to get me to slip with him, and I crawled into my shelter.

My sister Jane said, ‘Everyone’s been talking about you, Tina. They’ve been saying that . . .’

‘Just shut up, Jane, alright?’

Pretty soon after that, the horn started. Parp! Parp! Parp!

A woman in Blueside had had a heart attack and she and her daughters didn’t come to Strornry. A couple of blokes in Brooklyn couldn’t sleep. They’d set off hunting and didn’t get back until most of it was over. A few newhairs had gone out for a little bit of slip, like I thought was the plan for me and John when I went up to Deep Pool. But everyone else in the world was there, back in Circle Clearing, like Any Virsry all over again.

But the thing was that it wasn’t Circle Clearing any more, because there was no Circle. And that was really horrible. It was like you saw someone you knew in forest and you called out to them, but when they turned round towards you, you found out that their teeth and their tongue had fallen out, and their face had a big empty hole in middle of it. And the weird thing was that nobody wanted to go near that gap where Circle had been. People had always stayed round the edge of the clearing in any meeting, whether Any Virsry or Strornry, and always kept well back from the stones, but now they squeezed even further back, pressing up tight together right under the lantern trees to be as far as possible from where the stones had been. And that made the hole in middle look even bigger and emptier and more horrible.

Yes, and it was what we called a fug that waking. The cloud had come down low in the last few hours, right down into the treetops, making the highest lanterns into fuzzy blobs of light. And a fine rain was falling, not like the soaking rain you get in the hills round valley’s edge, but fine valley rain, like wet mist. And it was hot and stuffy. Everyone’s skin was shiny with rain and with sweat. It was like there was no sky, no forest even, and this sad lonely little scene, this clearing with a hole in middle, was all on its own in the world, a stuffy little cave with no air in it, surrounded by nothingness. There weren’t even any flutterbyes or bats coming in and out of the clearing, because they don’t fly when there’s a fug, they hide up and keep their wings dry, and wait for the cloud to lift.

People’s faces were grey and exhausted. They hadn’t left Any Virsry feeling happy, but they’d thought that at least they could get some sleep. And now this! Lots of women were crying, some men as well. Little kids and babies saw their mums crying and they cried too. Other grownups, instead of crying, had stone-hard faces. They were waiting for someone to shout at, someone to blame.

Oldest weren’t out in middle like they had been in Any Virsry. They couldn’t hack it. Their helpers had sorted out a little space for them on one side of the clearing, with their padded logs to rest their backs against. Old Stoop looked like he was about to die any minute.

But Caroline and Council were out there, far away from us all in middle of that empty space. And Caroline, that cold grey woman, was full full of rage. Her rage was like boiling sap inside a tree that’s about to fall, just waiting for someone to give it that last push when the sap would come spraying out to scald and maim anyone standing near. Jane the creepy little Secret Ree and Council were all around her and they all looked pretty much as angry as she was, except for Bella Redlantern, who just looked terrible, like she was about to be sick.

And then John came, poor old John, all by himself, coming from Londonside. There was a sort of gasp from all round the clearing and people standing on Londonside pulled hastily aside to let him past, like they were afraid of even touching him, like they were afraid of catching something from him if they stood too near to him.

A dreadful silence fell. Even the babies seemed to know to shut up crying. And he walked right out into middle, walking stiff stiff and straight straight with his head held up, as if to say he was ready to take whatever they were going to do to him. But his face was white, and he wasn’t looking anywhere but straight in front of him. (I bet he looked like that when he faced the leopard.) When he was three four yards in front of Caroline, he stopped.

He was only twenty wombs old. Only fifteen years in the old time.

‘You did this, didn’t you, John Redlantern?’ Caroline said.

And there were three four seconds of total silence.

‘Yes I did,’ he said then in a small quiet voice. ‘I did it because . . .’

‘I don’t wish to hear why you did it.’

‘I did it because . . .’

‘I don’t wish to hear, do you understand?’

‘I did it because I . . .’

Well, Caroline stepped right up to him and slapped him across the face so hard that he nearly fell over. You could see that she’d hurt her hand as well.

‘Those stones were laid here by your great-great-grandparents,’ she hissed into his face, ‘laid here to mark the special place where our Family arrived in this world, and the place we’re to wait for Earth to return. We’ve honoured them and kept them safe and clean for six generations, the special stones that Tommy and Angela chose and touched with their own hands and laid out in the exact spots where they’ve been ever since. And you, at twenty wombs old, you arrogant sneaky little tubeslinker’ (her voice went all ugly and twisted and choked up when she said that), ‘you think you know better than everyone else alive or everyone who’s ever lived.’