Louisa Shorney

Awaking from a deep and dream filled sleep Cerridwen stretches her arm out and wraps it around Tom’s warm and welcoming chest, only to collapse into a cold and empty space. The indent in the pillow and remnants of his unique personnel scent are reassuring signs that she has not slept alone. Her sleep drugged eyes search for the clock that sits on the table beside their bed. Its glowing red figures glare accusingly that she has slept well into the morning. Rolling onto her back she stares aimlessly at the ceiling, allowing her consciousness to slowly drift back from its night time wanderings. Fleeting glimpses of its untethered travels flash within her mind: flying swiftly just above the canopy of mile upon mile of trees, a scar cut through their midsts ending in a screaming gap in the sea of leaves; A drill housing pylon, the drone and thump of a pumping motor, the mixed stench of gas fumes, burnt wood and damp ash; Men running and shouting as the earth beneath them trembles and shakes, the screeching of sirens followed by an explosion; Up, up far above the trees, along the craggy face of the mountain’s side to the place where her foot falls into the sea, here the water boils with yellow and green plumes of steam. Sitting up, Cerri brings her palms to her face rubbing slowly up and down a few times washing away the last of her sleep, feeling calmer than she should after such disturbing scenes. The bedroom door opens and in wafts the delicious aroma of freshly brewed arabica, followed closely by Tom carrying two gently, steaming mugs.

‘Ah, yeh must have smelt the arabica. Did yeh sleep well my sweet?’

‘Yes, thank you. A little too long though if we’re heading to Aunt Meg’s today.’

‘I know love but I didn’t have the heart to wake yeh.’

Sitting down on the end of the bed Tom passes her one of the steaming mugs.

‘But the harma’s packed and ready, all but yer clothes. I’ve left yeh a bag on the chair. As long as we leave before midday we should make it by supper time if we push hard.’

‘But, Tom, we don’t have a harma.’

‘I called Brian after talking to David. He’s been begging me to cover the extraction demos up in Merritree for weeks now. He was only too happy to lend his when I told him I’d do it. He’s had to dash off to cover the peace talks in Arboria, so he won’t be needing the harma for a couple of weeks. Ideal, wouldn’t yeh say?’

‘Peace talks? What peace talks? What are you talking about?’

‘Did they not tell yeh at Central yesterday? A truce was called whilst yeh were at the CERC conference. I can’t believe yeh didn’t hear about it. Mother! Do they not even tell their own people what’s goin’ on?’

The Commission’s political machinations rarely fail to throw Tom into a darkened and foul mood.

‘Argh! But then it shouldn’t really surprise me. It’s not exactly in the Commissions best interests to have peace on its borders, is it? War breeds a fear that controls the masses and makes profits bigger. Look there isn’t time to talk about it now just get your shit together or we’ll never get there.’

‘Ok, ok! No need to get pissy with me. I’m not the big bad Commission.’

Cerri throws the covers back swings her legs over the edge of the bed and rises into a stride as she heads for her chest of draws.

‘It won’t take me a couple of minutes to throw what I need in a bag. I’ll have a quick shower an’ be right with you.’

She hears the bedroom door close loudly behind her, a defused slam.

‘It’s not my bloody fault! It’s not as if I asked to be left to sleep. Talk about mood swings, anyone would think he was hormonal.’

       She grumbles loudly to herself whilst grabbing at her underwear and stuffing them into the holdall Tom had left on the chair. A few clean T-shirts, a couple of warm jumpers and some jeans will do. Grabbing her wash bag from the top of the dresser Cerri throws in her moisturiser and deodorant, heads into the bathroom cleans her teeth and chucks the brush and paste into the bag. Returning to the bathroom door she tosses the bag with its contents across the room, landing it perfectly on top of the holdall. She pulls off her night clothes and throws them on the floor behind her and climbs into the shower. Standing quietly under the hot stream of water Cerri lets it pummel away the last of the night’s dreams and Tom’s temper, allowing herself to drift into a calm and peaceful place.

‘Cerri! Engelos! You must leave! Now!’

‘Mah? Wh..’

‘There’s no time Cerri. You must leave. Now!’

‘But why? Wh..’

‘DO AS I SAY CERRI! They’re coming, you must get out now! No time for questions, just do as I say and leave. Now!’

In a panicked rush Cerri trips out of the shower and slips on the bathroom floor, just managing to steady herself she grasps the basin to avert a fall. Taking a few deep breaths she tries to calm the heart that is hammering its way out of her chest, whilst grabbing a towel to dry herself with haste but not adequacy. She crams her clammy flesh into her clothes, grabs the holdall and runs out of the room as fast as she can, shouting as she hurtles down the stairs.

‘Tom, Tom, we’ve gotta leave now!’

Grabbing her walking shoes from the hall and her coat from the back of the kitchen door she runs in to find Tom with a frying pan, full of cooked bacon, in his hand.

‘Hungry hunny? I’m sorry I…’

‘No time. We’ve gotta go now. Where’s the harma?’

‘Out the back, a couple of streets down. Why what’s the rush?”’

‘No time to explain hun. We’ve gotta leave now. They’re coming. We can’t stay.’

Cerri is on the edge of panic, adrenalin pounding.

‘Who’s coming?’

‘I don’t know but Mah told me, in my head. She said….’

Cerri stops for a moment and looks into Tom’s eyes.

‘Look I know it sounds mad but there’s no time to explain now, you’ll just have to trust me. We need to leave, now, before it’s too late.’

The doorbell rings stunning them both for a moment, like rabbits tranced by a bright light, but the spell is broken by two loud, banging, thumps on the door.

‘Miss Morgan. We need to speak with you.’

Quietly putting down the frying pan, Tom quickly moves to the kitchen window and peers out at the back gate and the alleys beyond.

‘The harma’s just on the corner of Lewis Street.’ Tom whispers. ‘We can get out the back and head down the alley that way they can’t block us in.’

Another two, loud, banging thumps on the door.

‘Miss Morgan. By command of the Commission, you must let us in.’

‘One moment, I just need to make myself decent, you caught me in the shower.’

Cerri shouts from the kitchen door into the hallway hoping that this will hold them off for a while, long enough at least, for them to get out of sight. Grabbing the harma keys from the table and opening the back door as quietly as possible Tom turns to Cerri as they leave.

‘David’s not so paranoid after all then hun.’

Winking a smile at her, Tom hopes to ease the panic that he knows is threatening to consume her.

‘Oh get on with yeh funny man, yeh won’t be laughing if they catch us.’

She pushes him out of the door almost sending him tumbling. They run as quietly as they can down the back steps, through their little courtyard garden and out of the back gate. One hundred yards to their left the little lane leading to Lewis Street runs perpendicular to their own. Cerri’s heart is pounding so fast in her upper chest that she has to gasp for breath, until they are in the car and on their way undetected, it just isn’t safe to breathe. As they reach Lewis Street angry voices can be heard shouting in the back lanes. Who ever they are must have discovered the open back door and empty house. The sounds of heavy foot falls and barked orders ricochet around the warren of back alleys, it is hard to tell exactly where they are coming from. Making their way swiftly but calmly to the end of the street they need to get away and out of sight as quickly as possible. A double click on the key fob sets the blinkers flashing to identify their harma, Cerri reaches to open the front passenger door but Tom grabs her hand.

‘The windows are tinted in the back. Yeh need to keep out of sight.’

Nodding her understanding she climbs into the back and lies down across the bench seat. Once inside out of sight they both breathe a sigh of relief.

‘We’ll have to take the fast-track as far as Brindalow but then we can cut across country and avoid the peace keeping cameras. Yer gunna have to lay low ‘til then I’m afraid, hun. They won’t track this harma as long as it’s not linked to you.’

He starts the engine and pulls away slowly so as not to draw any unwanted attention although every part of him is screaming to get them away as fast as he can.

Traveling in silence they both allow the adrenaline to settle and their hearts to stop pounding on their ribcages. Contemplating turning on the audiophone for any news that might give a clue as to what the Azriel is going on Tom thinks better of it. Silence allows the dust to settle and calmness to pervade, it is better to leave the drama behind them, for now at least. Living on the outskirts of the city makes access to the fast-track relatively easy and most of the traffic, at this time of day, is heading in the opposite direction. It is not long before they are cruising at thirty leagues an hour heading for Brindalow. Lying on her back, hands behind her head as a pillow, Cerri stares at the ceiling of the harma trying to calm the turmoil in her head.

‘Come on girl, focus. There’s no point getting lost in a thought-mire. One at a time now.’

Talking to herself helps to calm her anxiety, she takes a few deep, slow breaths and closes her eyes to clear her mind. Letting each thought drift separately through her awareness she pays them just enough attention to acknowledge their presence before letting them go. Feeling heavy, her body begins to sink comfortably into the seat, all tension drifting away. She swallows in reflex and her eyes flicker behind closed lids. The hum of the harma’s engine and the rhythmic drone of the road speeding by beneath her are an oddly soothing lullaby. Her drifting thoughts fade into one another forming an image, hazy at first.

‘Mah?’

‘Yes child. Are you safe?’

‘We are yes.’

‘We? Who is with you?’

‘My boyfriend Tom.’

‘Can he be trusted?’

‘Yes of course he can. What’s the matter with you mother?’

‘I don’t mean to be insulting Cerri, but I have learnt that you can’t take such things for granted.’

‘What are yeh getting at, do yeh not trust Dah?’

‘Things are never so black and white daughter. It was a long time ago and it is not relevant for now.’

‘Not relevant for now! He’s my Dah! You can’t go dropping trust bombshells an’ then brush them off with an it’s not relevant for now shite!’

‘There is much you don’t know and much you need to learn. But now is neither the time nor the place, child.’

The tone of her mother’s voice is enough to suggest that pushing the subject further would not be wise. Putting her consternation aside for the time being Cerri changes the topic.

‘So anyway, how did you know someone was coming for me, Mah?’

‘From where I am we see all that is, was and will be.’

‘Where’s that then? Elysia?’

‘No my child. I’ve told you. I am as alive as you are.’

‘But, wh….’

‘There is time enough for that, but it is not now. Where are you?’

Consternation is turning rapidly into irritation, leaving a slight lump in her throat as Cerri tries to swallow it to one side.

‘We’re on the fast-track, heading north…..’

‘Ah, you’re going to Aunt Meg’s. Good.’

Cerri’s irritation is refusing to be swallowed and is now only being held back by her clenched teeth.

‘Yes, we are. It was Dah’s suggestion actually.’

‘Was it now.’

‘Yes it was! If it means anything to you, he didn’t want them doing to me what they’d done to you.’

‘He told you then?’

‘No, but he sounded pretty distraught about it.’

‘Hmm. We shall see. Time is running low engelos, there is so much you need to do to prepare and there may not be enough for that, so really anything else is not relevant for now!’

There is a steeliness to her mother’s voice, cold and matter of fact.

‘Meg will teach you all that she can, the rest you will learn for yourself. But you can not stay on the fast-track, they will find you.’

‘That’s what Tom said. We’re getting off at Brindalow and cutting across country from there.’

‘He is a clever man then, at least, this Tom of yours.’

‘Yes Mah, he is and a good man. I know I can trust him.’

‘I hope you are right my dear daughter. But I must leave now, you rest and gather your strength whilst you can and remember, hold to your light no matter how great the darkness seems.’

Without waiting for any response her mother’s image fades leaving Cerri to the lullaby of the road.

‘Hey, are yeh dozing back there sweetheart?’

Tom looks into the rearview mirror, so that they can see each other whilst they talk.

‘Not really, no.’

‘No I’m just going crazy. Hearing voices in me head an’ thinkin’ me dead mah’s come back to life!’

‘Is there something wrong lov’?’

‘No I’m O.K. Tom, just a bit of delayed shock I think. I’ll be alright tho’ hun.’

‘Hungry? There’s only two more junctions to go before we get off, we can stop an’ get somethin’.’

‘I don’t really feel hungry though I think I should probably eat something. Could definitely do with a stretch and a pee though.’

Cerri grimaces up at the mirror in mock distress.

‘We’re going to have to fuel up too, but with cameras in the stations ye can’t be gettin’ up an’ strollin’ about I’m afraid hun. Y’ll have to hold on ‘til I can find us somewhere off the public track for a proper break.’

An idea springs to Cerri’s mind rapidly followed by a punch of nauseating anxiety with a sudden realisation.

‘Shit…. In all the drama I forgot my bag and my laptop and all my research. Tom, if they find that we’re shafted.’

‘Don’t panic, hun. They won’t find a thing.’

‘And how can you be so certain of that?’

‘Cos I packed it all in the harma whilst you were still tossin’ in yer dreams this mornin’.’

‘What the feck! D’ye know yer just too bloody perfect for words Tomlin Breakwater.’

‘Ha. Yer just too feckin’ forgetful and bloody disorganised that’s all. If I’d left it up to you we’d be packing into the Great Blue Tomorrow.’

‘You cheeky bugger.’

‘Well it’s true.’

Cerri can see Tom’s face beaming in the mirror as he winks at her.

‘Pfft!’

She smiles back under a furrowed brow. There’s no point arguing with the truth.

‘Any way Mr Perfect. I’ve got an idea. I’ve got some capsicum in my bag.’

‘I don’t think that’ll put the cameras off petal.’

‘Ha, ha, funny fella. It’s not for the cameras, it’s for me, edjit. A red puffy face and swollen, streaming eyes will make a dam good disguise, don’t you think? Brilliant or what?’

‘So yer not just a pretty face then. Ha, in fact, yeh won’t be such a pretty face then.’

‘Oh Mother! I’d throw something at you if you weren’t drivin’.’

‘No, but seriously love, that stuffs pretty extreme and yeh can’t just wash it off with water.’

‘Ok, well how about spraying it on a wipe and dabbing it on my face? I’m pretty sure I’ve got some of those in my bag.’

‘Hey look, it’s yer call babe, it’ll take at least an hour for it to calm down an’ ye’ll be as blind as a bat for a good twenty minutes.’

‘Unless you can think of a better idea, I’d rather give it a go than stay cooped up in the back of this harma any longer. An’ I’m seriously burstin’, there’s no way I can wait for another stop.’

‘As I said it’s your call babe.’

‘Where’d ye pack my handbag then Mr Perfect?’

‘I stashed it under the front passenger seat. Yeh should be able to reach it from the back.’

‘How long before we stop?’

‘Twenty minutes give or take a few.’

‘Ok, I’ll get to it then. I wonna be able to find the bathroom when we stop.’

It is at times like this when a bag with a bottomless pit in it comes into its own.

Tom wasn’t wrong, Cerri’s eyes are burning behind swollen eyelids as are her throat and nostrils. With a brief bout of uncontrollable coughing her nose starts streaming over her red and nicely, swelling lips. She rummages in the bottomless pit for her cashmere wrap and some tissues. With the shawl to cover her hair and mask most of her face in shadow she should be safe to be seen. Trying to smile she looks up in the direction she believes the rearview mirror to be.

‘How d’wi look?’

Tom tries to stifle a laugh and fails. With glistening black slits looking at him through red swollen eyelids and misshapen engorged lips, he can’t decide if Cerri looks more like a bush baby with measles or an alarmed puffer fish.

‘Oh Mother! I’m sorry love. Yeh look feckin terrible. Yeh must feel like shite. But I must say, it works a treat. If I passed yeh in the street I wouldn’t recognise yeh.’

‘Thank the mother for that. I feel like I’ve dousthed my head into Azthrael’s fire. How much longer before we sthop?’

Again Tom can not contain his amusement.

‘Sthweetheart, I’m stho sthorry.’

‘Oh yeh pig. Don’t make me laugh. It hurtsth.’

‘Ok, but only if yeh don’t talk, if yeh do I won’t be able to contain myself.’

Unable to glower at him Cerri pokes her tongue at Tom, making him snigger all the more. Desperately trying to regain his Mr Sensible head, Tom makes a concerted effort not to look into the rearview mirror.

‘We’re nearly there. Just coming up to the junction now. I’ll fill up the tank and grab some provisions at the fuelling station while yeh go for yeh pee. We can stop somewhere where you’ll be less conspicuous later and have a picnic.’

As tom pulls in to fuel up, a Security Patrol vehicle follows them in and parks up next to the service building. With baited breath they both watch in silence as the officer leaves his vehicle and enters the building.

‘Hey Cerri Love, yeh gunna have teh play it cool in there. Are yeh gunna be ok?’

She puts her hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes in a gesture of reassurance. Getting out of the harma she walks, as best as she can with limited sight, towards the entrance. Watching her, his heart beating like a gangan, Tom has never felt so vulnerable nor exposed. It would be a cruel fate if they were caught now. He engages the compressor and starts the slow process of filling the harma tank with natural gas trying to bite back his anxiety. Neither Cerri nor the Sec officer have reappeared.

‘Come on now Tomlin, you can’t think like that. Y’ve gotta keep yeh cool. If she’s not out by the time y’ve finished, yeh can sus out the situation when yeh get inside. Calm yerself lad yer no good to her in a pickle.’

Talking some sense into himself he takes a deep, centering breath. The pump handle clicks to signal its finished business. Resetting the hose in its holster, he grabs his wallet from the dash and strides towards the service building. Pushing open the door Tom looks up and sees Cerri staring at the cooling cabinet with a shopping basket in her hand. He catches his breath for a moment then releases it with a sigh, dropping his anxious tension down through his shoulders he shakes it out of his hands. Walking over to Cerri he puts his arm around her and tries to maintain their facade.

‘How are yeh feelin hun? Any better?’

She peers up at him through puffy lids and nods her head, hoping that she doesn’t make him snigger or laugh. But the moment that the Sec Patrol had pulled in behind them Mr Sensible had taken charge, there would be no sniggering nor humour of any kind on his watch.

‘If y’ve got everyting yeh want hun, leave the rest to me. Yeh look dreadful, go an’ snuggle up in the harma sweetheart.’

She passes him the basket, smiling at him with her eyes, takes the keys and makes her way back to the harma. Tom heads to the caffeine machine and makes a couple of strong, milky Arabicas, keeping as calm as he can with his heart pounding in his chest, every fibre in his body wanting to get them as far as possible from the Sec officer as fast as possible, without raising suspicion. He leaves the Arabicas on the stand and takes the basket over to counter for the checker to start tilling it through, trying not to betray his urgency.

‘Gas, Sir?’

‘Aye. Stand five.’

‘Yeh misses not feelin so good?’

‘It’s only polite small talk yeh fool, he means nothin’ in it. Keep calm an’ cool an’ ye’ll get away with it.’

‘Ach no, poor thing, came down with a nasty bug yesterday. I’m takin’ her to her mothers. Don’t want her to be left alone with it whilst I’m away workin’ and the country air’ll do her good.’

‘Too much information Tomlin! Over kill’ll give the game away.’

‘Far to go?’

‘Only Arbridge. Not far now.’

‘Hope she feels better soon, Sir.’

‘Thank yeh. That’s very kind of yeh.’

‘83.60 then sir.’

Tom hands his card to the checker and takes the bag of shopping off of the counter ready to leave. As he turns and moves towards the exit the Sec officer steps into his path.

‘Just one moment Sir. If you don’t mind.’

Tom leaves his body momentarily as if he’s been hit by a tramtrac and hopes that nobody else notices.

‘Yes Officer, of course. How can I help?’

‘We’re looking for a young lady, Sir. Wanted for questioning about the break in at Commission Central this morning.’

‘A break in at the Commission? I had heard. What happened Officer?’

‘Apparently some sensitive documents have been taken, Sir.’

The officer takes a note book from his top pocket pulling from it a photograph of Cerri.

‘Have you seen this young lady on your travels Sir?’

‘No. No I haven’t officer. Is she the robber then?’

‘She’s wanted for questioning in connection with the break in is all I know Sir.’

‘Is she thought to be somewhere around here then?’

‘We’re asking everyone who’s travelling from Central, Sir. Incase she’s left the capital.’

‘Are we in any danger from this woman Officer?’

‘Best not to engage these types Sir. You can never be too careful. If you do see her just call this number.’

The officer hands Tom a Security Service wanted flyer with Cerri’s picture and Control Central contact details on it, any information is significant information.