Thanks to all who commented on the first of these two threads - it really helped. I've cut a lot of the information here, and tried to tell what I've kept through action (who'd know I tell people to do this week in, week out, and still struggle with it...). I've upped the conversation and foreboding at the end, and, most importantly for me, I've given Harry more of a Northern Irish voice. Any better?
(I'm not getting hung up on the start, by the way - I think my original start was further into the story than it originally seemed so this is building to support that, with lots of lovely layers being added)
@CTRandall , straggled stayed, I'm afraid. You won't be the last to wince at it.
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They pass, in their ones and twos and threes and fours, straggled along the horizon. This Influx will be the final one of my watch, if I’m any judge: my Celtic skin has blistered in a full day’s sun. Tomorrow it’ll have peeled back and be ready to frazzle all over again.
Most of their heads are bowed but one, a scrawny girl at the back, glares up at me. She’s about my age, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and jealousy comes off her in waves, tainting the air.
I don’t like how she looks at me, as if she can see through me. I stand as tall as I’m able and plant my feet. I hold my rifle at not-quite-ready, and stare down at the girl. Bryan insists that attitude is important when on duty. Harry, he says, if they believe you won’t hesitate to use that rifle, they won’t take the chance. He doesn’t take any chances, either, the ******* – my guard-tower is equipped with a bell and in clear sight of two others. If I don’t do my job and guard Home, someone else will do it for me.
The girl approaches the outer fence. She might be close enough to see the rows of beans and carrots growing. Perhaps even the outline of the buildings that make up Home’s Heart.
She looks the fences up and down, and I want to warn her that the outer fence is deliberately smaller than the inner, a trap that says ‘climb me and you might make it through to the food’, but I can’t. Talking with an Influx is strictly forbidden.
The inner fence is taller, electrified, and broken by Guard-towers. She won’t make it through but I think, for a moment, that she might try, and sweat breaks over my palms as I clutch the rifle tightly. If she crosses, I’ll have to shoot her.
“Julia!” An older woman, skin desiccated and parched, breaks from the group. She gathers the girl against her, turns her from Home, and they walk off, following the group.
Before they vanish, the girl looks back and stares at me. She holds my gaze, and I understand that she gets it. She gets the truth. I’m no luckier than her, even though I’m inside the fence with food and a bed.
None of us is lucky anymore. We’re all just surviving.
“Ho, Harry!” calls a voice behind me, and I turn. Will crosses from Home’s Heart, boots ringing on the concreted path. He’s tall and rangy, with shoulders twice as broad as mine, and I know that jealousy has a taste as well as a feel. “Any trouble?”
“None.”
“You’d have dealt with it, if it had come,” Will says, and pride swells in me. Will has a way of raising people up. He’d have been a teacher, if we were able to still have jobs like that, I reckon. Or an artist – I’ve seen the tracings he makes, at night, on guard, in the soft wetness of the wood.
He climbs, and joins me on the platform. In the surrounding fields, some of the Influx have settled down for the night, their cooking fires smoky from wet wood. It feels like they’re encircling us and that makes me uncomfortable. We’re supposed to be the free ones.
“That’s a new camp,” Will says, pointing to a fire just starting close by. Around it, people are setting up rudimentary shelters. One has a pot out and has put water in it, ready to go over the fire. “Any idea who?”
“Group’s just passed,” I say. “Caramel skin – from somewhere hot.” Most are, but recently we’ve even had Influx from the southern reaches of Ireland. “Didn’t look like a group to worry about.” I don’t mention the girl to Will. What can one girl do, after all?
“Give me the rifle,” said Will, his tone formal. “Your duty is over, Harry, and mine is to begin.”
The words of the guard-changeover. I unsling the rifle, and hand it over. Will takes it, just like I’ll take it back off him in the morning, and checks it over, making sure the barrels are loaded but that the safety is on.
He nods. “Good work, little Harry. Go, get food.” He grins, but it’s not mean like Mike or Dolfer’s would be. “You need it to grow.” His eyes narrow. “But, be careful. Your man. He’s in quare form.”
My man, not his. My stomach knots, tightening under my ribs. Bryan in a temper never bodes well. I start to climb down, picking the first support with care. I wish I could stay with Will, curled up for the night in the corner of the guard-tower and safe.
“Harry.” His quiet voice stops me. “Be careful, won’t you?”
“I’m always careful around Bryan,” I say.
“Not just that.” Will smiles and I think it might be the saddest I’ve ever seen. “Around Home. Things… change, from time to time. Keep your head down, Harry. Keep out of any trouble that might want to find you. And –- ” He shakes his head, and goes back to staring over the encampments that surround us.”I’m sorry. It’s all sh*te.”
“It is,” I say because it’s true, and then I don’t have anything more to say, and later I’m sorry I didn’t ask him what was the matter, and did he want to talk. Maybe it would have changed things if I had.
(I'm not getting hung up on the start, by the way - I think my original start was further into the story than it originally seemed so this is building to support that, with lots of lovely layers being added)
@CTRandall , straggled stayed, I'm afraid. You won't be the last to wince at it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They pass, in their ones and twos and threes and fours, straggled along the horizon. This Influx will be the final one of my watch, if I’m any judge: my Celtic skin has blistered in a full day’s sun. Tomorrow it’ll have peeled back and be ready to frazzle all over again.
Most of their heads are bowed but one, a scrawny girl at the back, glares up at me. She’s about my age, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and jealousy comes off her in waves, tainting the air.
I don’t like how she looks at me, as if she can see through me. I stand as tall as I’m able and plant my feet. I hold my rifle at not-quite-ready, and stare down at the girl. Bryan insists that attitude is important when on duty. Harry, he says, if they believe you won’t hesitate to use that rifle, they won’t take the chance. He doesn’t take any chances, either, the ******* – my guard-tower is equipped with a bell and in clear sight of two others. If I don’t do my job and guard Home, someone else will do it for me.
The girl approaches the outer fence. She might be close enough to see the rows of beans and carrots growing. Perhaps even the outline of the buildings that make up Home’s Heart.
She looks the fences up and down, and I want to warn her that the outer fence is deliberately smaller than the inner, a trap that says ‘climb me and you might make it through to the food’, but I can’t. Talking with an Influx is strictly forbidden.
The inner fence is taller, electrified, and broken by Guard-towers. She won’t make it through but I think, for a moment, that she might try, and sweat breaks over my palms as I clutch the rifle tightly. If she crosses, I’ll have to shoot her.
“Julia!” An older woman, skin desiccated and parched, breaks from the group. She gathers the girl against her, turns her from Home, and they walk off, following the group.
Before they vanish, the girl looks back and stares at me. She holds my gaze, and I understand that she gets it. She gets the truth. I’m no luckier than her, even though I’m inside the fence with food and a bed.
None of us is lucky anymore. We’re all just surviving.
“Ho, Harry!” calls a voice behind me, and I turn. Will crosses from Home’s Heart, boots ringing on the concreted path. He’s tall and rangy, with shoulders twice as broad as mine, and I know that jealousy has a taste as well as a feel. “Any trouble?”
“None.”
“You’d have dealt with it, if it had come,” Will says, and pride swells in me. Will has a way of raising people up. He’d have been a teacher, if we were able to still have jobs like that, I reckon. Or an artist – I’ve seen the tracings he makes, at night, on guard, in the soft wetness of the wood.
He climbs, and joins me on the platform. In the surrounding fields, some of the Influx have settled down for the night, their cooking fires smoky from wet wood. It feels like they’re encircling us and that makes me uncomfortable. We’re supposed to be the free ones.
“That’s a new camp,” Will says, pointing to a fire just starting close by. Around it, people are setting up rudimentary shelters. One has a pot out and has put water in it, ready to go over the fire. “Any idea who?”
“Group’s just passed,” I say. “Caramel skin – from somewhere hot.” Most are, but recently we’ve even had Influx from the southern reaches of Ireland. “Didn’t look like a group to worry about.” I don’t mention the girl to Will. What can one girl do, after all?
“Give me the rifle,” said Will, his tone formal. “Your duty is over, Harry, and mine is to begin.”
The words of the guard-changeover. I unsling the rifle, and hand it over. Will takes it, just like I’ll take it back off him in the morning, and checks it over, making sure the barrels are loaded but that the safety is on.
He nods. “Good work, little Harry. Go, get food.” He grins, but it’s not mean like Mike or Dolfer’s would be. “You need it to grow.” His eyes narrow. “But, be careful. Your man. He’s in quare form.”
My man, not his. My stomach knots, tightening under my ribs. Bryan in a temper never bodes well. I start to climb down, picking the first support with care. I wish I could stay with Will, curled up for the night in the corner of the guard-tower and safe.
“Harry.” His quiet voice stops me. “Be careful, won’t you?”
“I’m always careful around Bryan,” I say.
“Not just that.” Will smiles and I think it might be the saddest I’ve ever seen. “Around Home. Things… change, from time to time. Keep your head down, Harry. Keep out of any trouble that might want to find you. And –- ” He shakes his head, and goes back to staring over the encampments that surround us.”I’m sorry. It’s all sh*te.”
“It is,” I say because it’s true, and then I don’t have anything more to say, and later I’m sorry I didn’t ask him what was the matter, and did he want to talk. Maybe it would have changed things if I had.
