Beside her, Jason was panting, his eyes narrowed with the effort of running. No, not running, Martha realised as she looked at him, but limping.
‘I can make it, you know,’ he spat.
Martha swallowed her doubts, the dull ache in her head worsening as she nodded.
They veered away from the shadows and across the concrete. Martha tried to close her mind. A bullet shot past, taking part of her cheek with it. Martha knew she should feel the warm blood splatter on her cheek, the agony of losing a chunk of flesh, but she felt nothing. It didn’t feel like this was happening to her, but to someone else. Someone she didn’t know.
She had almost reached the buildings when she heard a cry from Jason. Something sharp had lodged itself in his arm and he stumbled to the floor. Martha raced back and put her arm around him, prepared to drag him if she had to. Instead, he placed a black file in her hand.
Jason had given up.
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘And don’t you dare stop me,’ he said. ‘Run. Do it. For both of us. For all of us.’
Martha wanted to ignore him and die fighting. But something in her brain ordered her not to.
She stuffed the file deep into her pocket. She began to run, but a heavy weight yanked her back. An agent. His blade bit into her throat. More blood. More numbness.
Then the weight was lifted. Jason! His eyes had dwindled to a pale blue, but had no shortage of determination as he grappled with the agent and hissed at her to go one last time.
Martha couldn’t disobey, not now. She sprinted towards the buildings, ducking as another bullet flew past her. She sped down a small alley before swerving to the side and up a stairwell. The metal railings hid her from view. Just about.
There was no sound beside that of her breathing. No one had followed her. At least, not yet. Before she moved on, she squinted through the gaps, allowing herself one last look. Over the roofs, illuminated in the haze of the streetlights, she could see Jason and the agents still in the clearing. Two of them held him back as the other stood in front of him, brandishing a weapon. But though he had given himself up, Jason would never give up the information.
Just before Martha turned to run, she saw the agent thrust something in Jason’s stomach. He fell to the floor. Dead. Vaporised. Frost in the glare of the sun.
Martha blinked. She wanted to feel pity. She wanted to feel something. But it was almost as if something in her brain was blocking all emotion…
the end About the author
Emily is a university student studying English Literature with Creative Writing. As well as articles and poetry, she loves writing fantasy and dystopian fiction, because they can offer critiques of the modern world in the guise of fiction. Besides writing, she enjoys doodling, playing video games – and eating ice cream!
BY THE GRACE OF THE TWO SUNS
Ed Newbould
‘When you feel that anger rising…’ Ma balled her hand into a tight fist. ‘You remember to clench your fist, like this.’
‘Like this?’ Tomas asked, squeezing his hand so tight the white of his knuckles showed.
She smiled. ‘Just like that.’
Tomas beamed, clenching his fist, breakfast forgotten. He knew if he let go, the ice would come. He could feel it building. But folk didn’t like the ice. So, he clenched his fist.
The door crashed open, a wave of hot air rolling into the room. Tomas’ step-pa stumbled in, throwing his coat toward a nearby chair and missing. ‘Mornin’,’ he grunted, succeeding where his coat had failed by collapsing into the chair. He wiped his brow with a chubby hand, sweat rolling into his small eyes. He might be grateful for some ice, Tomas thought, but knew better than to ask. Step-pa smiled at Tomas when Ma was around. But not when she turned her back.
‘Good night, was it?’ Ma asked.
‘Don’t start.’ Step-pa sighed, closing his eyes. The stench of alcohol wafted across the room.
She fixed him with a stare over the top of her glasses. ‘There’s a Fire Honoured in town, you know?’
Step-pa’s eyes shot open. ‘Why?’
‘Cam Galow said he saw an ice patch down at the pond. They must’ve called him in.’
Tomas watched, forgotten. Which he liked.
Step-pa was frowning, like he did when he was trying to figure something out – although Ma always had the answer already. He shook his head, cheeks wobbling. ‘Nuffin’ to do with us. We’ll keep it hush.’ He didn’t look at Tomas. He didn’t look at either of them.
Ma released the cup she had been gripping tight and turned back to her son. ‘Time to go, Tomas. I met with Miss Farrow last night. She’s going to keep an extra eye on those boys.’ Tomas nodded, just to keep Ma happy. But Tomas knew Miss Farrow didn’t have an extra eye. And if she did, she wouldn’t keep it on Tomas.
Jacob was waiting for him at the bottom of the porch steps, jumping up and down in anticipation, dust rising from the dirt lane in a red cloud about him.
‘You’ve heard?’ Tomas stared back blankly. ‘The pond! The Fire Honoured!’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard.’
Jacob’s disappointment only lasted a moment. ‘Ice only stays around for a bit because of the… you know…’ He gestured toward the two suns, still low overhead, already beating relentless heat down upon the village. ‘Pa says it’s an Ice Honoured. Says they have to release their ice every so often.’
Tomas nodded. Not that Jacob noticed. He bleated the whole way to school as they wound their way through the village, oblivious to the curious faces appearing at windows of the usually sleepy village. ‘Pa says they’re evil – cold hearts and cold minds. They freeze anyone that gets in their way. Pa says maybe they’re here to spy on us, sent by the Ice Honoured Elders.’
That caught Tomas’ attention. ‘Elders?’
‘Yes,’ Jacob exclaimed, ‘like the Fire Honoured Board. But they call them Elders. They rule in the North, where the world is frozen over, and the suns are at their weakest.’ Jacob paused, and Tomas realised they were nearing the end of their trip. ‘You don’t… know anything do you, Tomas? It’s just… Pa said to stay away from your Ma. And well…’
‘My Ma?’ Tomas asked, blinking. Why would anyone stay away from Ma? ‘My Ma’s not an Ice Honoured,’ he said, truthfully.
Jacob’s face relaxed. ‘Oh good! Well in that case… you know…’ Jacob gave a wave of farewell, before bouncing around the bend in the lane. Tomas counted to twenty, as he did every day, ignoring the staring faces before following on toward the school building.
Tomas didn’t like the school much. The windows were too wide and too deep, sending great beams of light into the tiny classroom. It created a sweltering inferno of blinding sunshine and talking children.
But the children didn’t talk to Tomas.
His skin was too pale, eyes too blue, hair too blonde. But most of all he hated the suns. And nobody hated the suns.
The whispers began as he walked past the gatherings, chattering under the apparently watchful eye of Miss Farrow. ‘… his Ma was seen near the pond last night…’ ‘… Pa says they’re dangerous folk…’ ‘He’s got evil in his blood.’ Tomas stopped. Ma hadn’t been near the pond. Ma had been with Miss Farrow. She said so.
The chattering stopped when the cloud of dust appeared above the buildings along the lane. Dust from many marching feet. Children shuffled uncomfortably. The workers of the tribe would be out on the plains by now, digging for water as they did every day. The town mayor and his team would be busy in the town hall, talking about matters too important to be out and about.