Night Witches Part 13

*So, this is where you'll sleep.' He sits on the bed-slats opposite. The dorm's pretty tight for s.p.a.ce so our knees are almost touching.

*How are you then? Reinstated to fly, I hear. I'm glad you're OK. You are OK, aren't you?'

Why's everyone asking if I'm OK when I'm absolutely falling apart?

*I'm fine. Normal. What about you? You look . . . well.' He looks gorgeous.

Reef runs a hand over his hair, embarra.s.sed at the compliment. This is the first time we've been properly alone together since the Mora.s.s. It's quite painful, and wonderful too.

*I'm feeling a lot better since Aura told me you'd survived your fall from the bridge. My hopes that Verdessica had drowned were premature.'

*He . . . pulled me out of the river. Saved me, really. I don't know why.'

*You don't?' Reef gives a wry smile then looks down at his boots for a moment. *I guess you have that effect on people. You really . . . you're really . . . Na a" I shouldn't, being a Scrutiner and all that, but I like you, Rain. You remind me of the forest in late winter, so still but so ready to burst into life. Thinking of you makes me wonder what the Mora.s.s is like in spring, when the snow's gone and everything is shaded green from new leaves.'

The Scrutiner is gone. He's real now. Open to me. The slice of s.p.a.ce between us seems to get whisked away until we're so close I breathe in the air he's breathed out. I love his smell a" washed hair and warm skin.

*Rain . . .' His voice is husky. His hand brushes nothingness because I've moved away.

*Sorry.'

*No, I'm sorry,' he says. *I shouldn't . . .'

*You should. It's just . . . I can't.'

*You're with someone else?' He looks like he's been slapped.

*No! No one. It's this thing. I can't . . . I don't . . . It's . . . I'm not feeling well. A bit feverish. Maybe I'll see a medic.'

What else can I tell him? That I have visions, hear voices, snap bomb wires with my bare hands . . . that I'm not normal?

He's worried. *You don't look ill. You look . . . nice.'

*I'm fine. Not contagious.' Spreading my arms out with a nervous laugh I suddenly panic about the scratch marks on my arms but, strangely, the skin isn't red, scabbed or even cut any more. Everything is whole and healed.

Out of the blue Reef asks, *You haven't found any more of those Old Nation witch-bane charms, have you?'

*Witch-bane?'

*It's an Old Nation metal used in the knots and bone artefacts you found. They're supposed to keep witches away.'

*But there'sa"'

*. . . no such thing as witches. So we're told.' His voice trails off and he's lost in memories, where I can't follow. They're not happy memories, I can tell that much.

*Was it Haze who made the charms?' I ask.

He nods. *She seems to have had a difficult and sheltered life, skivvying for some old grandmother type. She hadn't ever used a keypad or connected before I found her in the forest. We're keeping an eye on her, don't worry. She's got a healthy fear of Scrutiners.'

*She was acting funny in the bath-house earlier, saying stupid things.'

*Like what?'

*Like . . . oh, nothing. She was a bit crazy really. Said I'd stolen something, but I haven't, I swear, I really haven't.'

Reef smoothes his hair again. *Listen, Rain, all sorts of abnormal things have happened to you recently a" the Mora.s.s, the war, the night-missions. You're under a lot of pressure, and it's going to get worse. It's not fair, I know. I want to help if I can. If there's ever anything you want to tell me, anything at all, no matter how abnormal . . . come to me first, do you understand? You do know you can trust me, don't you?'

I want to. I truly want to. This time when he leans closer I don't pull back, I just set my hand on his sleeve to hold him away. That's when the lights go off. No warning, no blinking. Utter blackout. Not even back-up lo-glo lamps.

Reef doesn't move to connect for updates about the power cut; neither do I.

My hand moves up his arm, just grazing the sleeve, then my fingertips touch his chest. His muscles are hard under the smooth weave of his white tunic. Mesmerised, I spread my fingers so my palm is right over his heart. It beats very quickly. I'm rigid with fear in case we touch skin and I see some nasty death-scene a" Reef blown to pieces by a traption gun, Reef devoured by carnivorous trees, Reef in hospital hooked up to machines, Reef all white-haired and shrivelled at the very end of being old. His heart mustn't stop beating! He must stay alive and beautiful, whatever it takes!

We breathe. We breathe. And we breathe.

*Rain . . . I want to tell you something about me. About how I became a Scrutiner. Something you shouldn't hear from anywhere else . . .'

The door bangs open and in comes Zoya, chomping on a sugar bun.

*Mmn, sorry, I'll just . . .'

Too late.

Reef leaps to his feet and straightens his clothes. Those fingers that should be touching me graze a keypad to connect. He bows to me slightly and leaves, every atom a Scrutiner again.

Sun-gold light streams in through the dorm windows. I count specks of dust hanging in the air and wait for the others to wake up. It's too hot. I shove my covers away and look down at my body in its crumpled grey nightshirt. It is my body. It moves when I tell it to. It feels heat, cold, pain, pleasure. So why does it seem to be something apart from me, up to things I can't control? How can I keep walking round in it as if everything's normal?

Pulling on my uniform helps. It reminds me I'm One of Many. Except I'm not. For all it's been fantastic to see the girls again I can't shake the feeling of being one, while they are the many. I don't know if Zoya's said something about finding me with Reef, or about me being rescued by Steen, but I'm sure everyone's looking at me funny, sort of sideways, when they think I won't notice.

A shadow pa.s.ses the dorm window. An aroma wafts by. Zoya unburies her head from a pillow.

*I know that smell!' she says, sitting up and sniffing. *Pip, do you remember when we were little your mama used to buy spring cakes and make us windmill suns?'

*Sounds boring,' grunts Ang as she wakes up too.

*They were brilliant,' answers Mossie sleepily. *I remember them too. They were these sun shapes you put on sticks and they used to go round and round when you ran about with them.'

That makes me think of the memories a" I mean, hallucinations a" I had in the ruined house in Sorrowdale . . . Glimpses of dappled light on paper suns strung up and twirling from tree branches, and Mama singing as she swept winter out into the yard and welcomed full spring in.

What yard?

n.o.body sweeps anything in People's Number 2032 Housing Block in Sea-Ways. Or sings, either, come to think of it. This morning I've got some of Henke's tunes running round my head with unsung words of my own a" Spring is love is life is change is dying is winter is dead is cold is warm is spring is love is life . . .

Lida laughs and stretches. *Na a" we had windmill suns too when I was a kid. A bit Old Nation, I know, but we'd only just got Aura then so we didn't know any better. Most of you will be too young to remember a time when we couldn't connect.'

*I can,' says Ang stubbornly. *Just. I was born before the last Eclipse. My family were one of the first to get fitted for connection.'

Lida's still lost in nostalgia. *We used to have spring cakes too, baked in bird shapes . . .'

Petra leaps up and pads to the door. *Someone here,' she mumbles. She's not a morning person, though she sends a sly kiss Mossie's way as she pa.s.ses.

*Happy spring!' beams Haze from the doorway. She's holding a cloth-covered tray. When she lifts the cloth we see rows of bird-shaped cakes.

*Haze, you're amazing!' cries Zoya. *I'm so glad you stayed with the squadron.'

Haze gets one hug after another. Not from me.

*Aren't you eating?' Mossie asks, handing me a spring cake.

*Not hungry, thanks.'

Haze smirks.

Spring is on us with a vengeance. When we hustle outside to prep the Storms for the night's missions we're greeted by the sight of saplings a" real ones a" waving thin branches insolently across the makeshift runway. Pushing up through mats of biogra.s.s are bright-green shoots a" real gra.s.s.

*Some of these plant things are taller than you, Pip,' says Petra with a grin.

*That's not hard,' laughs Lida, but I don't mind the banter so much now. Being teased means belonging. I will squash strangeness and be normal like everyone else.

Zoya looks uneasy. *This isn't supposed to happen. They should get Slick on it all.'

*No Slick's been delivered yet,' replies Lida. *Not enough to go round everywhere that needs it. We'll have to take care of this ourselves.' She grabs one of the saplings and pulls. It takes two hands and all her strength to yank it out of the ground. Tufts of gra.s.s are torn up too. *Weird, look. I read trees are supposed to have roots, right? This one doesn't.'

*Witch weeds,' says Haze, standing on the far side of the group from me with her strong arms folded.

I roll my eyes. *No such thing as witches.'

*Not witches. Weeds. They don't need roots. They grow next to another plant, gra.s.s or grain. Stick claws into the other plant's roots and use them to suck up life from the soil. The gra.s.s will soon die. Witch weeds don't care. Witches take what they want.'

I snap, *Haze, you can't keep going on about witches! Everybody knows they don't exist.'

*So you keep saying.'

*She's right,' says Lida. *That sort of talk will have Scrutiners down on you like Slick from a spray can.'

We all get stuck into the weeding. It's a good excuse for Yeldon to flex his muscles. I edge over to Zoya.

*Anything happening with you and Yeldon?'

*You kidding?'

*He seems all right.'

*He's not bad.' She looks down at the limp plant in her hands. *You know my father would never let me come home with anyone less than a multi-award-winning scientist.'

*Last I looked, Uncle Mentira isn't anywhere on this airbase.'

Zoya glances around. The Scrutiner Roke has come out to squint at us all. *He still wouldn't like it. Anyway, Yeldon probably kisses like a sink plunger, so what's the point?'

*How does a sink plunger kiss?' asks Dee, b.u.mping into the end of our conversation.

*Ask Ang,' says Zoya. *She's probably already tried it a" twice, knowing her.'

*You really think so?' And off Dee goes to see if it's true.

*You feeling better?' Zoya asks me after a while.

I hesitate, wondering what the right answer is. Out beyond the stark curves of the bio-vats there's a war waging. Tonight we'll be flying that fine line between life and death. In the meanwhile, we're all working together against a different enemy a" these sprouting weeds that need yanking out. I won't be one of the weeds. I won't sprout. I'll be nice and normal like everyone else.

*I'm good. Why?'

*You know I'm here for you, right? I promised to take care of you. Ugh, look over there. They've dragged the Crux out here to graft. Hope he stays well away from the rest of us.'

Roke doesn't join in with the weeding. He keeps nipping at his nails nervously. Steen strips down to tunic and boots and stretches out to feel the light. Prayers over, he attacks saplings with an angry concentration. I stare at him, trying to figure out where he fits into things.

*Wait, Moss, I'll get that!' Petra is trying to wrestle Mossie away from a particularly big sapling.

*I can manage,' Mossie gasps. Her breath has gone shallow and her lips have an eerie blue tinge. Even as I look over she sags a bit.

Petra catches hold of her, pretending not to panic. *Take it easy. I'll get a medic update from Aura . . .'

*No! It's nothing. It'll pa.s.s.'

*Doesn't look nothing to me.'

I move in front of them both, to block Roke's view. *What's wrong?'

Mossie flaps her hands as if to shoo us both away. *Stop fussing! I'm hot, is all.'

*You're freezing!' mutters Petra. *I'm telling Aura. You should take the day off . . .'

*When . . . Storms are operational . . . tonight? We need all . . . the techies we can get.' Mossie can hardly speak, she's labouring so hard to breathe.

She looks bad, like when Zoya's mama got a heart attack and nearly died. Mossie can't die!

*Let me feel.'

I say the words without knowing how I can possibly help. Petra frowns but Mossie seems to pick up on my unexpected self-a.s.surance because she unfastens her jacket and pulls her top down a bit.

I rub dirt off my hand as best I can. Am I really going to do this? Yes.

Without knowing why I set my hand flat on the skin over Mossie's sternum, the bone at the front of her ribs. First I feel her fluttering pulse, then I hear the rasp of oxygen crawling into her lungs. Fainter still I sense cells dividing and dying, chemicals flashing. Through my fingers I actually see her heart. There's no jolt, like with the other visions I've had. I simply feel her heart grow calm, full and strong again. Life, life, life flows from me to her!

Petra pulls me away. *Watch out. Someone's coming.'

*What's going on?' calls Zoya, simultaneously cramming her mouth full of ration crackers.

I colour. *Nothing. Just . . .'