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New Keepers
Jayne Bauling
Tafelberg
This novel was awarded the Silver Sanlam Prize for Youth Literature 2017
New Keepers is dedicated to the New Kids:
Sasha, Deyana, Kai, Jayden and Kayde.
1
I hate the Sprawll’s perpetual half-light. The whole place is just a series of linked malls. Even the residential areas are entirely sheltered from the sky.
This has to be the place. Birdie Blue. I look at the glowing blue sign. There are some young people hanging around outside, like they can’t make up their minds to go in.
When I focus properly, I get a shock. They are all bleeding from small wounds. There are scratches, grazes, splits, punctures, gashes and more on their faces, hands and arms. Every one of them carries an injury somewhere. The blood is bright and fresh. The sight brings a rush of saliva to my mouth, a moment of nausea.
I fight it off, trying to understand what keeps them bleeding. I’m imagining some disease, a condition of the blood, or simply flesh that won’t heal. Maybe the Sprawll’s lack of proper light has weakened their skin.
Then I see one boy whose grazed forearm is scabbing over. I only notice him because he is noticing the same thing. At once he starts picking at the fresh scabs. I can see they’re still soft. Another boy and a younger girl come over to help him. All three pick and scratch at the scabs.
The bleeding is deliberate.
“Gross.”
My stalker has decided to show herself. I was aware of her following me even before I left the Margins.
“What do you want?” I can feel myself scowling at her. “Why have you followed me?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
That’s the way she is, this dirty girl, always looking for a fight. I can’t remember her name, but I know her from the Margins. Sometimes she tags along with me and my crew, or begs something off us, smoke mostly.
“Think you’ll find something to steal here?” I mock, because we’ve caught her taking our stuff more than once. “The Minders are a lot more watchful in here than they bother to be in the Margins.”
“I’m not stupid, Jabz.”
I can tell it’s her first time in the Sprawll. It’s the way she’s staring all around, at the fake cobbles, the way the Birdie Blue sign floats in the air over the bleeding kids in their bright, tight clothes.
“Then why are you here?”
“None of your business.”
I look at her. She appears so fierce with that pointed face, but she’s too small to take seriously.
I lift my shoulders, let them fall. Whatever has brought her after me, I know I’m not the attraction. How can I be? We may both be from the Margins, but I’m a Stain. I don’t get girls. Not unStained ones anyway, and the Stained ones have issues. Like I do, I guess.
My Stain is how I told him he would recognise me, one of the people I’m here to meet. My clients.
At first, when I started advertising the expedition on the texter, sending my message out to random numbers, I got a whole lot of rude answers and jokes, most likely from people using the Controlled Communications Centres they have here in the Sprawll. We all know nothing is secret in those places, although no one seemed to guess I was sending my question from the Margins. Maybe the Sprawll has softened their brains, because who else would be offering to take people out to the Wildlands for an adventure? The jokes were mostly about what drugs I was using, or suggesting it was time I went in for Repairs. We don’t go in for Repairs in the Margins.
I guess my message did seem crazy.
Young and looking for adventure? Join me on an expedition into the Wildlands.
I suppose if I hadn’t seen and heard what I did in the smoke, I wouldn’t have taken any notice of the stories about rich, young Sprawllers so bored they’re looking for the excitement of a trip outside. I think we might get more than excitement, but it seems like a way of getting myself some company while I go looking for the mountain. A few people to help in a fight or to offer up as a sacrifice if I have to. I’d rather have someone from the Margins, but none of my crew are interested. The tokens I’m charging aren’t so important, but I’m going to let my clients think that’s why I’m doing this.
The mountain – or maybe it’s more of a rocky hill, because it doesn’t look that big – I have to go out to find it. I mean, no mountains here, right? Not even small ones. The Sprawll and Margins were levelled; hills, ridges and old mine dumps all flattened. I don’t know how long ago it happened, just that it was before we’d learned to fear water and love the heights that kept it from us.
I remember how fast my heart was beating when I got my first serious response from someone called Silver. Next I heard from this Lizwi person who sounds really bossy, something about her brother who really wants to do the expedition and how she has to accompany him because there is something wrong with him, only I couldn’t properly understand what.
So here I am, come to fetch them out of the Sprawll. My first clients, and they don’t need to know they’ll probably be my last. I don’t know what will happen when I find the mountain. Lizwi chose our meeting place, because she says her brother is only comfortable in Feathers venues. Even though I’ve been into the Sprawll before, I still don’t get this business of Feathers and the other groups they have in here.
Fine with me, I confirmed.
How will we know you? Silver texted back when I let him know.
I hesitated. Then I typed, I’m a Stain.
Nothing came back immediately. I couldn’t pull breath into my lungs properly because I was in a panic that I’d lost a client.
Eventually – Oh yes, I’ve just noticed the Margins map co-ordinates. I should have realised anyway. Tomorrow, you say. What time?
I’ve never been so relieved. I was also envious. My cheap, illicit Margins texter may have sent out my co-ordinates, but it hadn’t picked up his. Lizwi didn’t ask how she’d know me when I confirmed with her. She comes across like she thinks she knows everything.
So here I am in the south-west part of the Sprawll, and the bleeding kids have noticed me and are staring, pretty much the way the dirty girl and I have been staring at them. I’m the darkest person I know, but even my deep brown skin can’t hide the Stain.
“What are you looking at, you sick pricks?” the dirty girl spits at them.
“If you want to get back to the Margins, you won’t do that,” I tell her.
“I’m not scared of them.” Her pupils are tiny in the centres of her bright hazel eyes. “Soft Sprawllers.”
“Fine, go pick a fight with them if you want,” I say. “None of my business. I didn’t invite you along.”
“Where are you going?” she demands when I move towards the Birdie Blue entrance.
“I have to meet someone.”
“Who?”
In a way, I’m relieved she’s following me. I suppose it’s just that we’re both from the Margins that I feel – I don’t know – like I’m responsible for her.
“People.”
Birdie Blue is a blue food joint. Blue has always been the most popular, but last time I was in the Sprawll I noticed that the alternatives were into pink.
It’s still early evening so there is hardly anyone inside, just an older couple in the bar area, and three kids drinking blue fizz at a table. Silver, Lizwi and the brother, I guess.
What am I doing? What if all this is pointless?
I