Siberia (17 page)

I folded the coat, and put everything back the way it had been.

When the snowlight woke me in the morning, he was still snoring. I made up the stove and brewed some tea, using one of the packets of medicine Katerina had given me, the night the Mafia came. I stirred a lot of syrup into it to disguise the taste, then I woke him, and told him he needed a brew to cure his hangover. He grumbled, and muttered, and drank it down.

“You’ll have to give me the key,” I said. “I have to get wood for the stove, and snow for water, and I have to empty the privy bucket.”

“I will get up soon.”

“Your head aches, you feel ill. You drank too much vodka, go back to sleep. We can wait another day. You can have my bed, and be comfortable.”

I helped him over to the bed. He gave me the key, and fell asleep.

I took out the nail box, and opened the nutshell. When I broke the seal five identical kits looked up at me, making tiny purrs of delight. I looked at them for a long time, until I thought I
knew
. Then I picked her out, and fed her.

Yagin fell deeper into darkness as the hours passed, and I fed the Lindquist; and she grew. His skin turned pale and clammy, his breathing sank to a murmur. I had given him the whole packet of sleeping medicine, about ten doses. I knew Katerina’s herbal mixtures could be very strong, I hoped I hadn’t killed him. I didn’t want to murder anyone, whatever wrong they’d done.

I’d decided to take the black uniform coat with me, it looked useful. I had it rolled up now, on the table, with all the food and extra blankets it would hold; and tied with rope. I’d packed my knapsack with more food, including Yagin’s chocolate; and his map. I knew that if I’d asked him about the coat, he’d have had an answer. He’d say he’d been
disguised
as a Fitness Police officer, the same as he’d been disguised as a New Dawn College guard, so he could protect me. In my heart I faced the knowledge that I could be wrong. Yagin could be my true friend, and Mama’s true friend; or even more than that.

But either you trust someone, or
you just can’t.

The treasure I was guarding had to come first. I couldn’t take a chance.

I made up the stove. I had left him some food, and he had plenty of blankets. I put on the jacket he’d made for me, and the cap. He was alive when I left the hut: I thought his breathing was getting stronger. The new Lindquist trotted out into the snow ahead of me. She had grown to be about the size of the wild hare I had met on the snow plain. Her coat was reddish brown, and her back legs bigger than her front legs, though not by much. She still had
fingers,
thicker and stronger than fingers should be, but not solid like a hoof. She was walking on the splayed tips of them. I locked the door, and tossed the key away. The Lindquist nuzzled my hand, and trotted away. I knew she wouldn’t wander far. Yagin’s motor sled was in the wood store. I checked the gauge, in case he’d been lying, but it really didn’t have any fuel. I found a big stone, and did as much damage as I could anyway.

The moon was full. The deep snow gleamed, the trees looked as if they were cast in metal. It seemed like a hundred years since I’d hidden and watched while the Mafia torched our hut, at the start of this long journey—could it really be just two months? I sat on my sledge and waited.
. . .
When my new friend came back she was much bigger, the biggest animal I’d ever seen: with a thick gray coat and a long back. “I think you are a reindeer,” I said. “I saw you on that card.

But I’ll call you Toesy.” She bowed her head, and nibbled at my face while I rubbed her velvety antlers: her breath was warm and sweet.

We left the clearing, and entered the silent, silver forest.

* 10 *

Chiroptera

The track that led to the Cabin had been buried deep by the blizzard, the skirts of the young trees on either side were drowned in snow. Toesy walked ahead; I struggled with the sledge, taking care to blot out her prints. It took
hours
to reach the road that I’d known must be somewhere near. At least it was obvious when we got there. The wind had cleared some of the surface down to the frozen ruts. I tried to make it look as though I’d headed north, then I dumped the sledge. I shoved it into a gulley just inside the trees, and kicked a mass of soft snow after it: that was the best I could do. I put my arms around Toesy’s neck, and rubbed my cheek against her warm gray coat. “We’ll make it,” I said. “I know we will.” I slung the blanket roll over her shoulders. When I tried to get on her back, she bent her knees of her own accord to make it easier. We left the road, heading west, and I let Toesy find our path.

We kept going for a long time, in the moonlight. At last I spotted a snow cave that the blizzard had created, under the branches of one of the white-skirted trees: like the shelter Toothy had made for me, only bigger. There was room for me and Toesy. I’d taken a groundsheet from Yagin’s pack. I wrapped myself in that, and blankets, and the big black coat, and curled up against Toesy’s flank, with the knapsack in my arms. I didn’t sleep for a while, I just lay gazing at the stillness. The night air was like silver knives in my throat: the forest was as magical as I had ever dreamed.

Through the forest to the sea.

Next day I did a lot of falling off, and I always seemed to choose a place where the snow was hard and lumpy as a bed of stones. Toesy would stand over me and lick me with her long thick tongue, as I lay with my head ringing, and nudge me into getting up if she thought I stayed down too long. Nosey had been my naughty, funny friend. Toothy had been someone strange I didn’t really understand. Toesy was like a mother to me. I felt very safe with her.

I got better at riding, and managed to stay on her back for hours at a time. Sometimes the trees were thick as grass in the summer wilderness, sometimes they were sparse; or dead and still standing, leaning against each other. Sometimes we walked over frozen swamp, where everything was veiled in frosted lichen and moss. Sometimes there were clear, shining rides that seemed as if they must be part of an ancient city. I never looked at the kits, I was afraid to let the cold touch them. I thought about my mama, and about Yagin, and tried
not
to think of the lonely vastness that stretched out all around. The forest was beautiful, but it was frightening. We would keep going far into the moonlit nights, because Toesy never seemed to tire; and only stop where I saw a place to make a snow shelter. Then I’d light a candle, stick it in the snow or on a branch if there was a convenient one; and try to study my maps. There were no Settlements in the forest, but it was crossed by several bandit routes and trails, like the one we’d left behind. If we kept on heading west, we would strike the big Settlements Commission supply road, that Mama had shown me long ago was the way to reach the sea.
. . .
I thought it would take us maybe ten days to reach this road. Then we should turn north again, but we’d have to keep out of sight. There would be vehicles moving on the big road: supply trains for the Settlements; bandit caravans. And I couldn’t exactly hide Toesy inside my coat.

Almost a hundred miles through the forest to the big road, then another hundred miles to the sea. I kept measuring the distance: with my fingers, with a piece of string, and comparing it to the scale on the side of the map. I couldn’t make it less.

Toesy found her own food: she ate the moss from the trees, and from the ground whenever the wind had scoured the snow away. I was going to run out of canned stew and chocolate before long (I never tried to light a fire, I kept the food from freezing by sleeping with it inside my bedclothes). But when we got to the big road, there’d be places with supplies. I would hide Toesy, and go thieving.

We crossed trails, and once passed a deserted factory-farm, with big fences, but we never saw anything moving. When the sun was as high as it would get, on the sixth day (I thought it was the sixth: it’s very easy to lose track when you’re traveling alone), we were crossing an upland break in the forest. Toesy seemed uneasy, and I felt the same way: we didn’t like being in the open. I noticed a line of black poles, like straight ink strokes, over to the west, that must be snow markers on a stretch of road. I burrowed in my layers for the maps, feeling worried. We shouldn’t be anywhere near a marked road
. . .
and Toesy gave a start that almost threw me. Then I heard what she must have heard: a high-pitched, insect whine. Three tiny black dots came zooming into view, from the direction of those ink marks.

Motor sleds!

I locked my fists in Toesy’s thick coat, and tugged to make her turn around. “Run, Toesy! Back to the trees!”

I hoped it was only the outriders from a caravan like Little Father’s. They must have seen Toesy, but they’d soon give up when we got into the thickets. Why would bandits chase a mutie? Toesy picked up her pace: stretching out her legs. I clung on, lying flat, trying to keep my knees tight against her sides. My backbone was jolting its way out of the top of my head, my teeth were jammed together.

We plunged into a shallow bare valley, where Toesy floundered shoulder-deep in soft drifts, but the trees were nearer, and I thought we had a chance. Then I heard the insect whine
ahead,
and another black speeding mark, like a fly skimming over the whiteness, came hurtling to intercept us. I tried to push Toesy onward with my fists and knees, screaming at her. The blanket roll went flying. It was gone, too bad.

“Get past him, Toesy! Get past him!”

The sled cut a great sweep, sending up a silver wave of snow, and stopped. I saw the rider reach behind him for the rifle on his back. I urged Toesy, desperately, but something was happening to her: she staggered. There were shudders and surges, like explosions inside her.
. . .
I felt a shock, like something big and invisible rushing by, and I was in the snow, on my back. The man had left his sled. He had fired once and missed. He was coming closer. He was dressed in a dark uniform, with high boots and a shiny sled helmet: but without a coat.

I wondered where he had hidden his rifle and his helmet, when we were in the cabin. I should have known he would
never
give up.

Toesy’s face appeared, looking down into mine. She had changed. She was lower at the shoulder, but much more massive. Her antlers had gone. Instead, a pair of murderous curved tusks rose from her snout. But her motherly eyes were the same. She wouldn’t let me get up. She shoved me back down and stood over me, her forelegs splayed and her great head lowered.

“Sloe! Get away from the beast.”

“
Traitor!
Leave us alone!”

“I’m trying to help you,” Yagin yelled back. “God knows I hate to do this, but I have to. Get out of the way!”

He was staring at Toesy: I could feel his awe and wonder. “Don’t kill her!” I begged. “How can you bear to kill her!
Please!
”

“My men have seen her. I’ve no choice.”

I beat at Toesy with my fists. “Run, Toesy! Go!” I struggled to get up, but my right knee wouldn’t bear me, and it was too late. Toesy had made up her mind. She was moving, thundering, charging, in ridge-backed bristling fury, her great head down like a battering ram. I heard Yagin give a cry that sounded like a wail of despair, and his rifle cracked once more.

When the three men came up, Toesy was lying on the snow in a huge splash and trail of scarlet blood. Yagin had brought a fuel can from his sled, and was tossing the stinking liquid over her body. He hadn’t come near me. He knew I couldn’t escape: I couldn’t even get up. The Fitness Police officers jumped off their sleds (two of them were doubled up, sharing one); and gawped. They were youngish, with well-fed, innocent-looking, indoor faces.

“What
is
that thing, sir?” asked one of them, saluting.

“Mutie,” declared Yagin, with authority. “A man-eater. Very dangerous. It was dragging her off to its den.” He tossed a match, and the mass of hide and hair and flesh that had been my Toesy began to burn. Yagin stared into the ugly flames.

“The girl’s lucky we saw what was happening, and reached her in time.”

“I don’t understand how she got this far, sir,” said another of the young men. “We’re nearly seventy miles from the cabin where she left you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand about this business,” said Yagin. “She has confederates, of course. And we’ll have to track them down too.”

He strode over to me. I was sick to think I’d ever been close to trusting him, but I was glad I hated him so much. It saved me from crying in front of them.

“This young woman is the daughter of two enemies of our fragile Environment,” announced Yagin. “One of whom has successfully defected, helped by other dangerous criminals. That’s why I was keeping her under covert surveillance at her school, and why I’ve pursued her, alone, since she went on the run.
I didn’t ask for reinforcements,
but you three have been, h’m, a great help. Her crimes are many.”

“Yes, sir,” said the three young officers, in chorus.

“There’s the fact that she ran, and the mysterious torching of her mother’s hut. She also disgraced herself at the school, caused damage at a fur farm, and has been involved in the child slave trade; and finally she tried to poison me.”

He stooped. Before I knew what to expect he had picked me up in his arms. “Let’s get her back to the cruiser, before she tries any more tricks.”

Yagin and his men had used a lot of fuel chasing Toesy, and two of the sleds were burdened with extra weight. We moved slowly; in close formation. I think Yagin’s men were afraid of meeting more “man-eating muties.” It was after dark when we reached the place where they’d left their snow cruiser: at a fuel dump on the big road that I’d seen from the ridge. It was the road I’d been heading for, Wilderness Supply Road 808; I had misjudged the distance, or else the maps were wrong. The fuel for official vehicles was kept in a block-house, heavily guarded behind tall fences. Next door to it was a long gray shed, with a salt-gritted parking lot. The snow cruiser was there, alongside several battered, gaudily painted trucks that were not official transport. The young officers took down the tailgate, rode the sleds into the back, and locked it again. I stood shivering, cold and stiff after the long ride, looking at the lying claim on the side,
Fitness Police:
Protecting Your Fragile Environment.

They’d had a long search: for Yagin after he’d gone off looking for me on his own; and then for me, through the forest. Yagin decided they should get something to eat and drink in the shed, which was a restaurant, before they set off again.

“What about the girl?” asked one of his men. “We take her in with us?”

“No,” said Yagin. He pointed at the other trucks. “Can’t you see this is bandit territory? I don’t want her making contact with the riffraff inside.”

The officer who’d spoken looked sorry for me, but he nodded. The three younger men were very respectful of Yagin. Yagin roughly “helped” me up into the cab, and into the drivers’ sleeping compartment. His men were standing watching. “You stay here,” said Yagin loudly. It was the first time he’d spoken to me since we left Toesy burning in the snow. Then he leaned close and muttered, “We had an accident in the blizzard, so there’s a
badly cracked window.
But I can’t help that!”

I wouldn’t look at him. He pulled the metal shutter across, and locked me in.

The sleeping compartment was like a cupboard-bed with a very low ceiling, and small thick windows on either side. There was a spiderweb crack in one of them, and the frame around it was bent out of shape. I could see the flares of the parking lot, and white blurred heaps of ruined buildings: the fuel dump was in the middle of an abandoned town. I took off my knapsack and hugged it on my knees. I was glad Yagin was alive. The thought of having murdered someone had been giving me the horrors.

Why hadn’t he taken the knapsack from me?

He needed me as well as the kits because the Lindquists were “imprinted.” But if he wanted to be sure I wouldn’t try to escape, all he had to do was keep hold of the knapsack. Maybe he didn’t want the junior officers to know what it contained. Or maybe he really was playing a double game. I rolled over and traced the outline of the spiderweb, feeling the sharp edges. I thought about the way Yagin had talked in the cabin, and the very different way he talked in front of his men. What if he’d killed my Toesy to protect the secret of the Lindquists? What if he had left me in here to give me a chance to escape
. . .
? But I had nothing except my knapsack. If I got out of this locked box, either Yagin would find me again at once, or I’d be dead before morning.

Mama always used to say:
Guards aren’t needed in the
wilderness.
Yagin didn’t need to guard me. He didn’t care if I “escaped” again and again. He had me on a string. He knew where I was going, he could always track me down. The cold and the emptiness controlled me, but Yagin
frightened
me. The mysterious way he behaved, the way he looked at me, the way he talked.

I lay down, still hugging the knapsack. The mattress felt incredibly soft. I thought of the kits. Toesy had died unharvested, but the
Artiodactyla
Lindquist was still safe. They were all still safe.
. . .
But they were prisoners, like me. Wild animals, turned into powder and locked up in little tubes. I tried to picture them, one by one.
Artiodactyla,
big and strong; Nosey the bug-eater; Ears, the beautiful snow prince; Toothy with all her children; my darling fierce little Nivvy. And the last Lindquist,
Chiroptera,
a little furry animal with wings. I wish I had wings now, I thought.

Once there was a little girl called Rosita, who used to play at being the magic creatures. It was her secret, even Mama didn’t know. She liked being
Chiroptera,
the strangest and most unusual one. She’d hold out the skirts of her dress, and flit around the bare, drab prison hut, saying
Cheeep! Cheeep!
Sometimes she’d keep her eyes shut.
. . .
Although she could never understand how saying
cheeep
helped you to find your way in the dark, she kept trying.