The Hourglass (3 page)

“I’m fine.
Thanks,” she whispered back. “Do you know her?” she asked. “She seemed to know
all about you.”

“Heather? Nah.
She just got all the information out of me when I was put in here. We’ve been
here for a week, waiting for the bus.”

Sarah’s heart
sank. So the girl, Heather, was going to the ship as well. She figured as much,
but it was worse to know it as an absolute.

“Marland, why
are they sending us to the ship, do you know? I mean, what we did wasn’t that
bad, right? Shouldn’t we have been sent to the farms?”

“There have been
bombings,” whispered Marland conspiratorly. “The farms have been targeted so
they’re not taking on new people at the moment. Everyone gets sent to the
ships.”
“But, wouldn’t that have been on the news?”
Marland laughed derisively. “Of course not. Do you think the Covenant wants
people to think that the Accord is hurting them? Don’t believe everything you
hear, Sarah.”

“Then how did
you hear about it?” demanded Sarah, feeling somewhat miffed.

“One of the
guards told me. Straight from the horse’s mouth, so to say.”

Sarah thought
about it. It made sense.

“Do you,” Sarah
hesitated, realising that she was going to show her ignorance even more, “do
you know what’s going to happen to us?” she finished. “I mean, what happens
from here? We get on the prison ship and then what?”

“I don’t know
for sure,” replied Marland, and Sarah felt that she could almost see the shrug
she was sure Marland was doing. “I mean, I’ve never really seen anyone who
comes back. Have you?”

Sarah frowned.
There was that cousin of Abby’s, but he had worked on the ship, not been a
prisoner. Yet she had known people, or at least known-of people who had been
sent away. She couldn’t recall ever really seeing them again.

“So what are you
saying?” asked Sarah. A creeping sensation of dread travelled down her spine.

“Just that I
don’t know anyone who has returned. What if, what if they throw us overboard or
something?” whispered Marland, her voice so soft now that Sarah had to strain
to hear her. She sounded excited, like she had wanted to talk to someone about
this for a while but never had the chance.   

“But they
couldn’t! People would complain. We would know about it.”

“Would we
really? Who would complain about criminals not returning?”

“If I didn’t
return my Mum would,” replied Sarah confidently.
“But what if she was told that you’d done something, something bad, and that
they had to increase your sentence? What if they just keep on providing
excuses? If they say that there was an accident or something?”

“Marland, stop.”
She didn’t want to listen any more. It was sounding too much like a crazy
conspiracy theory and she was worried that if she listened to any more of it
she would start to believe it herself.

There was a
pause.

“Just think about
it, ok?”     

“Sure, fine.”
Sarah rolled over onto her side. She tried not to think of anything. Everything
was just so awful at the moment that she definitely didn’t need images of
people throwing her overboard to drown at the forefront of her thoughts as
well.

The Broken Bus

Sarah woke up
early the next morning. Marland was already awake, nervously picking at her
fingernails again. She gave Sarah a tentative smile, which Sarah returned.
Heather was still snoring away on the bench.  A guard came about half an hour
later. She threw a protein bar to each of the prisoners and grinned when the
bar she threw at Heather landed on her chest, waking her up with a snort. The
guard unlocked the door and held it open.

“C’mon ladies.
Time to go, your bus awaits.”

Heather held up
the protein bar, disgruntled. “Is this it?” she demanded.

“You can eat on
the way,” replied the guard. “Let’s go.”

They all
shuffled out into the corridor. Sarah ripped open her bar and munched on it
thoughtfully. She wondered what the food situation would be like on the ship.
She often went without breakfast, more for the lack of food than anything else,
and she was quite happy with the protein bar. It tasted like rubber but it was
filling.

Protein bars
were one of the few readily available foodstuffs that didn’t wax and wane with
how well the war was going. It was synthesised some fifty years ago by someone
with no sense of taste, smell or presentation, but it had, they were all
assured, all the necessary vitamins, proteins and minerals that were needed.
They were originally intended to be an emergency food source but had quickly
become the staple food product for many people in the city. Sarah supposed that
meant her city was probably always in a semi-state of emergency. 

They passed
through the small room with the desk and walked down a few corridors before
emerging into the sunshine outside. The light made her blink and shade her
eyes. They were in an enclosed pen made out of chicken wire attached to the
back of the building. Slowly her surroundings came into focus as she
acclimatised to the glare. There was a bus waiting on the other side, its door
neatly lining up with the door in the wire fence. It was a small, dingy bus
with a beaten and depressed look about it. It looked old, almost pre-war. She
wouldn’t have been surprised if it was. Pretty much all new technology and
money went into funding the war effort. The city and its people usually had to
make do with what they already had, and she figured that herself and her fellow
prisoners probably ranked below the city when it came to funding. The guard
unlocked the wire fence door and ushered them through, her hand on her gun in
case any of them dared to run. Heather elbowed herself to the front and went
in. Sarah had no idea why anyone would be so keen to get on the bus. Or at
least, she didn’t until she entered it herself. The seats were as beaten up and
sad looking as the outside of the bus. Bits of padding leaked out from most of
the seats and there was graffiti everywhere. She wondered inanely where people
had got the pens from. Each seat had room for two people and lined both sides
of the bus. Every two-seater had a single person on it. Heather had smugly
spread herself over the last empty two-seater so that she didn’t have to share.
Now Sarah and Marland were forced to decide who to sit next to. Sarah wished
that they were all wearing little badges that detailed their crimes. She would
rather deal with a small-time thief like she was supposed to be than a murderer.
She looked around. Everyone on the bus was young. The details she had been
given prior to her court case had indicated that she could be sent to a
juvenile farm if proven guilty, and while it wasn’t exactly a farm they were
going to, the juvenile part looked about right. A few people were looking her
way now. She would have to decide quickly, in case the person she sat next to
decided to read too much into her choice. She chose the first seat where the
person on it was sitting up next to the window, so that she wouldn’t have to
ask them to move over to make room for her. She hardly registered what the
person looked like, trying so hard to go unnoticed herself. Marland looked at
her desperately as she walked down the centre aisle, clearly wishing that they
could have sat together. She sat next to a small girl and Sarah watched as she
gave the girl a smile. The girl made a rude gesture and turned back to the
window, ignoring her. Marland’s face crumpled and she buried her head into her
hands. Sarah felt sorry for her and decided to wait until she looked up again
to give her a smile of encouragement, but Marland didn’t so much as glance up.
Seeing that she wasn’t going to move any time soon, Sarah turned back to find
out who she had ended up sitting next to. The person was staring at her,
studying her carefully. Sarah stared back, making her own assessment. He was
about the same age as her, but it was hard to tell exactly because his hair was
white. For a second she thought that it was pure white, but on closer
inspection there was some silver in there as well. It drew her attention
immediately. She had no idea how she had missed it when she had sat down. His
light brown eyes looked like they were laughing at her. Sarah returned his gaze
warily. While she was relieved that his eyes didn’t hold the crazed gleam of a
homicidal maniac, his silent laughing was almost as unsettling.

“I know, right?”
he said, gesturing around him. “The bus looks like it’ll fall apart at any
second. A small fire broke out when I knocked the wall earlier. I kid you not.
Two wires crossed or something.” Sarah thought he was joking until he pointed
at a small hole in the side of the bus. It was blackened by fire and there were
two exposed wires visible. He laughed at the expression of shock on her face
and held out a hand. “I’m Finn.”

Sarah paused
before reaching over and shaking it. “Sarah.” She realised that she had never
actually shaken anybody’s hand on meeting them before. It seemed old-fashioned
and somehow adult. Of course he could just be making fun of her.

“So what did you
do to get yourself on this unique trip of a lifetime?” he asked with joyous
enthusiasm that jarred with their surroundings.

“None of your
business,” replied Sarah. She had made up her mind not to tell anybody why she
was in there. The less they knew the more careful they would be when dealing
with her. Also she wanted to say something to stop his gleeful attitude. It
seemed almost absurd when she herself was feeling so damn miserable.

“Ah, I see,”
replied Finn, not disturbed at all, “you’ve decided on strong and surly.”

Sarah didn’t say
anything and looked away. She definitely felt like she was being made fun of
and she wasn’t in the mood.

“Me, myself and
I,” continued Finn, as if the conversation was still flowing, “am in here
because of a slight misunderstanding between me and a rather stupid, meat
headed soldier. So there is no need to be afraid. I’m a perfectly acceptable
human being.” The last statement betrayed a hint of disgust, as if a ‘perfectly
acceptable human being’ was in his opinion less than it should be.

“I’m not afraid
of you,” replied Sarah before she realised that he was just baiting her to get
a response.

“And she’s back
in the conversation!” he replied.

Sarah just shook
her head. Much to her chagrin she was starting to like him. “So do you know
anybody else here? Do you know what it’ll be like?” she asked seriously.

He shrugged.
“Not really. I was in a cell with that dude for a while,” he gestured towards a
boy sitting three rows behind them. Sarah turned around. He was older, about
nineteen, and was burly and solid. “Aggravated assault. He king hit someone in the
street.” Finn’s face was expressionless and Sarah turned back around before the
boy realised that they were talking about him. “We’re not the best of friends,”
he added dryly. “As for what it’ll be like, I know they search you before you
go in. Girls’ and boys’ quarters are on different sides of the ship, but the
kitchen and dining area are shared. There’s meant to be some sort of work
program, and that’s about all I know.” Sarah gave him a quizzical look. “There
was a brochure in the court room,” he explained.

“Oh. That
doesn’t sound too terrible.”

“But would they
put the terrible stuff in the brochure? I’m thinking not.”

“Thanks for the
words of comfort,” she said dryly.

“It’s what I’m
best at. So who and what do you know?”

Sarah pointed at
Heather. “She killed someone who was trying to rob her. She’s a cow. And she,”
she pointed to Marland, “burnt down a shed. I understand her mum’s not the
greatest. She’s ok, but I think she’s a little crazy. She thinks that they
throw us overboard.”

“Hmm,” murmured Finn
thoughtfully as he took them in. “So you would advise that I avoid the cow?”

Sarah rolled her
eyes. “No go ahead. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you. Her name’s
Heather. She enjoys sadism and knives.”

Finn chuckled.
“So are you going to tell me what you’re in here for?”

“No.”

“Let me put it
this way, are you likely to cut my throat while I sleep?”

“No,” repeated
Sarah. “I mean, it would be pretty hard, what with the boys’ sleeping quarters
being on a separate part of the ship.” He looked slightly alarmed and she
laughed.  She realised that she couldn’t even remember the last time that she
had laughed properly, even before the pie incident. And she was never this good
at talking to strangers. Something about being sent to a prison ship with no
idea what was about to happen seemed to have loosened her inhibitions slightly.
Finn grinned. Sarah looked past him and out of the window. They had been
driving for a few minutes now and she realised as she watched the familiar
buildings go by that soon they would be leaving the city. She had never left
the city before. Most people never did. Leaving the protection of the city to
go into the war zone outside was not commonly considered by the locals. Even if
they wanted to it rarely happened. Technically it was permitted, but the
Covenant couldn’t risk its citizens travelling to a city controlled by the
Accord and spreading information. This meant that if you tried to walk out of
those gates, you would find yourself in a small room with a bunch of soldiers
questioning you on, why, exactly, would you want to leave this beautiful,
peaceful, and most of all
safe
town? What other reason could you have,
they would ask, to leave such a protected place in the middle of a war if not
to go help the enemy? That would be treason. And predictably, every potential
wanderer would eventually end up assuring the Covenant soldiers that they love
their city, that they are grateful to stay in the city so well protected by
them, and that actually, now that they thought about it, they really didn’t
want to leave after all. And so nobody ever left the city, except for the rare
exception of someone being granted a permit. The permits were usually only
granted if the person was seeking to work on a Covenant controlled farm, or if
they were leaving on official, government-sanctioned business. Seeking a permit
to work on the farms was rare. This was mostly because the farms were populated
by convicts, and so people who volunteered to go out there were thought to be crazy,
despite the extra protection provided by the soldiers and the lucrative wages
that were available. Sarah didn’t think that working on the farms would be so
bad. When everything was factory packaged and sold for its nutritional content,
rather than taste, fresh food had become the pinnacle of luxury. If working on
the farms meant that occasionally she could taste the wares, it would almost be
worth it. Every year on her birthday her mum saved up enough money to buy her a
piece of fruit to eat all by herself. It was her favourite day of the year.
Three
months,
she told herself resolutely.
Three months and she would be back
home.