Escapade

By Alex Green

A future world is ruled by women living in high-tech cities, while men have been banished to rural communities because of their violent nature. Rebellious teenager Evelyn runs away to join the men and is befriended by Sky, a boy of her own age. Pursued by the women’s security guards, they escape into the wild. They attempt to reach a coastal town where they hope to find safety, but on the way must overcome many dangers – from pursuing guards, a band of violent, rogue males, and a creature living in a labyrinth of caves. And at their destination, their hopes of safety are shattered…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brown Dog Books
• Release date: Jun 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781839525148

Book preview

PART ONE.

WINTERHOLD

AND WINTERGIFT

1.

Evelyn was seven years old when she saw a man for the first time.

It was October, and already half-dark when her bedtime came. Waiting for her mother to come and say goodnight, she went to close the curtains over the window and saw him standing in the park across the road, looking up at their flat. Eve thought she should feel frightened, but he didn’t look frightening, just confused, and a little bit stupid. He didn’t have any hair on the top of his head, but a lot on the lower part, which made it look as if all the hair had slipped down his face. He was wearing an old overcoat that came nearly to the ground. Eve knew he had seen her, but he didn’t move, except to put his head on one side and open his eyes and mouth very wide. It might have been a smile. She didn’t feel frightened at all.

She heard Valerie come into the room and walk over to stand behind her. Without turning round she reached back and took hold of her hand.

‘It’s a man, isn’t it, Mummy?’ she whispered.

Valerie gently pulled Eve back against her and put her arms round her.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘He can’t get in here.’ She raised her voice. ‘Security.’

There was a slight crackle from the loudspeaker in the ceiling, then a friendly voice said, ‘Good evening, Valerie. How can we help?’

‘There’s a man in the park outside.’

A pause. Then the voice again. ‘Yes, he’s already been reported. Guardians are on their way.’

‘Where did he come from?’ asked Eve.

‘There’s some repair work being carried out on the eastern boundary. We think he got in there. Is that Evelyn?’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

The voice laughed softly. ‘We know lots of things. Don’t worry, Evelyn, you’re quite safe. Goodnight.’ The speaker clicked off.

‘Now, into bed,’ Valerie said. ‘Do you want to listen to a story? Or shall we choose you a new dress for Natalia’s birthday party?’

‘I don’t want to go to bed. I want to see what happens. To the man.’

‘No, darling. There’s nothing to see, really. They’ll just come and take him away.’

‘But if I don’t see, how will I know he’s gone? And if I don’t know he’s gone I’ll feel frightened because he might still be there and I won’t be able to sleep.’

Valerie sighed. It was always difficult to argue with children’s logic, and Eve’s more than most. ‘Alright then. But we’ll turn the light off so he can’t see us, and you must be very quiet and promise to go to sleep after he’s gone.’

When the light dimmed the man stopped looking at their window. He wandered into the play area and started touching the play-rides curiously. ‘Why is he here?’ Eve asked. ‘He should be in the wild.’

‘Yes. I expect he got lost.’

‘He doesn’t look like the pictures on our school-casts. His hair’s all in the wrong place.’

‘Well, not all women look the same, do they?’

The man must have heard something, because he turned suddenly and crouched down behind a pile of coloured climbing blocks. A woman had come in through the gate from the road. Quite old, with the yellow shield-badge of the guardians pinned to her blouse. She walked slowly forward, holding out her hands. She seemed to be talking softly. The man stood up and took a step back, then stopped. The woman was still talking. She was quite close now. Then another woman came out from the trees behind the man. She had a thick plait of black hair hanging over one shoulder (that’s truly ice, thought Eve. I’ll wear my hair like that when it’s long enough). The man hadn’t seen the second woman. The first was right in front of him now. She put out her hand and touched it to the side of his face. She seemed to be stroking it, like Eve stroked her pet kitten. The second woman took a grey tube with a handle – a sort of pistol, Eve supposed – from a pouch on the back of her belt. She pointed it at the man and pressed a button. It must have fired a dart or something, because the man slapped a hand to the back of his neck, spun round with a cry and took a couple of steps towards the woman. She didn’t move. The man stopped, then he slowly sagged at the knees, the waist and the shoulders, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and collapsed onto the ground. The two women stood looking down at him for a moment, then the first one called out something over her shoulder, and two more guardians appeared, carrying a stretcher. They all helped bundle the man onto the stretcher. His eyes were still open, and he still looked confused, but he didn’t move at all. They carried him out of the park. The first woman remembered to close the gate.

‘There,’ said her mother. ‘All over.’

‘Is he dead?’

‘No, darling, of course not. He’ll be fine in an hour or so.’

‘What will they do with him?’

‘They’ll take him somewhere safe. Somewhere where he will be happy.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere in the wild, far away. Now, into bed. You promised. Do you want to have the light on?’

‘Yes. Just for a little bit. But I’m not frightened! And I still don’t understand what he was doing here.’

‘Nothing that can hurt you. But you’ll have something to tell your friends at school tomorrow, won’t you!’ She gave Eve a kiss. ‘Night night.’

‘Night night,’ Eve said. Then, as Valerie reached the door, she added, ‘I felt sorry for the man.’

‘I felt sorry for him,’ she said again the next day.

‘Weren’t you frightened?’ Natalia exclaimed. ‘I would have been!’

Talli was Eve’s very best friend, and Valerie said she was a good influence because she was a few months older than Eve and rather serious. Valerie thought she was ‘sensible’ and hoped – without much evidence so far – that she would pass some of her good sense on to Eve.

They were sitting on the roof of the apartment block where they both lived. They weren’t supposed to be up there, but Eve had found an unlocked hatch a few weeks ago, and she and Talli often went there when they wanted to talk privately.

‘I don’t think you’d’ve been frightened,’ Eve said. ‘He didn’t look scary – just a bit confused.’

‘Where have they taken him?’

‘Back to the wild, Mummy said. Somewhere far away.’ She looked out over the neat lines of roofs to the walls where the city ended and the countryside began. ‘I wish I could go there.’

‘To the wild? Don’t be silly!’

‘It’s not silly. I want to see the trees and the animals and things.’

‘But you can see them here,’ Talli said. ‘In the parks and the mena … menager … the place where they look after animals.’

It was true. WinterHold was the capital city of Braeden, and by far the largest. Eve and Talli’s teacher said it was probably the biggest city in the world, but she couldn’t really have known that. Hardly anybody travelled to the other Lands since the Rift Treaty. Even the other Federation territories weren’t often visited. Braeden had prospered, however. It had suffered less than most during the wars – there was war-waste in the south-east, which was still uninhabitable, and the missiles had done something to the weather and brought arctic conditions down to the north, but the rest of the country had recovered long ago. WinterHold had everything they needed. As Talli said, there were parks with neatly tended trees and lawns where they could play or run or ride, pools where they could swim; there was a menagerie where they could see some of the less dangerous wild animals. And schools and sports halls and theatres and health clinics, everything they could possibly want, and all clean, tidy, organised, safe …

‘They’re boring,’ Eve said grumpily. ‘I want to go outside. Out there. I want to have adventures, like the girls in the stories. And I want to see the places where the men live, how they live. He was nice, the man last night. He smiled at me.’

Nathalie shuddered. ‘Men are dangerous. Haven’t you been listening in lessons? Anyway, we’ll be able to go outside one day. The older girls go on nature-study trips with their teachers and the guardians. It will be our turn later on.’

‘I don’t want to go later on. I want to go now.’

She was interrupted by a soft buzz from the bangle on her wrist. She glanced at the dial and made a face. ‘Constance,’ she said, and pressed the ‘receive’ button. Her cousin’s bad-tempered whine came through clearly.

‘Where are you? You shouldn’t wander off without telling me. Your mother and Phillida will be home from work soon. Come back at once, do you hear? I’ve told you again and …’

Eve switched the bangle off. ‘I’d better go. She’ll moan all evening if I don’t. I’ll come down to you after supper and we can do our homework together: that way I don’t have to listen to her.’

2.

Sky was eleven years old when he saw women for the first time. They took away his father.

They were repairing hedges on the top field, Sky bending the top-growth over for his father, Hayward, to weave into the barrier. The first shoots of wheat would soon be appearing and although the cows in the next field could probably push through the hedge, Hayward explained that they wouldn’t try if they couldn’t see to the other side. The branches were strong: they scraped Sky’s hands and made his shoulders ache and he hoped Hayward would soon decide that they’d done enough. Then he could go and play in the river with his friend Jay. He would take his sling-shot and get a rabbit for the pot, or perhaps a bird.

Thinking of birds, he suddenly realised that all the birdsong had stopped. He straightened, puzzled, and immediately became aware of the sound which he must have been hearing for some minutes without noticing it. A low hum, like the drone of a very big hornet. He looked around, shading his eyes.

‘What is it, Sky?’ asked Hayward. Then he heard it too – and immediately grabbed Sky’s arm and started to run for the corner of the field.

‘What?’ panted Sky. ‘Father, let go. What are you doing?’

‘Run,’ shouted Hayward. Then, pushing Sky ahead of him, ‘Run for the wood. Don’t look back. Get into the trees and get down!’

Sky knew better than to ask questions: he was still young enough for a beating. He put his head down and ran as he had been told. For a time he heard his father’s lumbering steps behind him, but Hayward was a big man, and Sky easily outran him. The humming noise was louder now. Reaching the forest-line at the edge of the field Sky plunged into the shade of the great trees, then, panting, dropped to his belly and squirmed back to the forest edge.

Hayward was twenty yards away, running towards him, but he was tiring and every few steps he stumbled before running on. Above him there was a huge silver machine hanging in the air. It glittered in the sun, the light flashing off glass panels, as still as if it had been painted into the sky. As Sky watched a door in the side slid open and he saw a woman lean out with something in her hands which she pointed at Hayward. Almost at once he pitched forward and lay unmoving on the ground.

Sky started to get up, to go and help his father, but before he could move clear of the trees the flying machine sank down onto the field and two women stepped out. Sky dropped back to his stomach and hugged the ground, feeling his heart start to race and the hair at the back of his neck prickle with fear.

And then there was … nothing. Silence. Cautiously Sky raised his head and looked out over the sun-baked field. No women. No glittering silver machine. No father.

From the trees above came the high, rattling call of a starling, tentative at first but then more confident, and soon joined by the jangling ‘quit, quit’ of a corn-bunting. ‘Quit yourself!’ muttered Sky, scrambling to his feet, and walked out of the trees. There were the fields, woods and hills that there had always been, there the familiar distant flash of the river. There was the half-laid hedge they had been working on. But he was enormously alone.

In the evening, most of the men met in the gathering-house in the main square of WinterGift to eat, drink, sing, dance, fight, play games and talk. It was already crowded and noisy when Sky walked in. Jay was there with a couple of the older boys and waved him over, but Sky shook his head. He knew the Gaffer would be sitting at his usual table with his gangsmen, and he burrowed his way through the crowd until he could kneel in front of him. The Gaffer looked at him impatiently but not unkindly.

‘Get up, Sky. What do you want? Where’s your father?’ ‘Women came and took him, sir. In a flying machine. This afternoon, sir, from our top field.’

The gangsmen had stopped talking at his first words. Slowly the silence rippled out until all the men and boys in the room were listening.

‘You saw this?’ growled the Gaffer.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And where were you?’

‘Father told me to run for the trees. We both ran, but I ran faster. When I went back, there was nobody there.’

There was a sudden clamour as all the men in the room started to shout questions. The Gaffer stood and roared for silence. ‘Who wants to speak?’ he demanded.

One of the gangsmen behind him stood. ‘Gaffer. I would speak.’

‘Go ahead, Tanner.’

‘They are coming more often,’ said the gangsman called Tanner. ‘They took a brother from Thunderhead Gifting last winter, and another from Hilldrop in the spring sowing. That’s three in less than a year. And who knows how many from other Giftings?’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ shouted a voice from the crowd.

‘Silence!’ roared the Gaffer. ‘What’s your point, Tanner? What would you have us do?’

Another man in the crowd called ‘Gaffer. I would speak.’

The Gaffer peered into the press of bodies. ‘Speak then, Shep.’

‘Alone we are easy targets. We should work together, five men to a field. Maybe four to work the field and one to keep watch.’

‘And do what?’ objected one of the gangsmen. ‘Fight? Fight the women? They would cast us off, make us Rogue. Is that what you want? To become a Rogue Gifting, with no sons?’

There was another uproar and again the Gaffer bellowed for silence. ‘The women give as well as take,’ he growled when the noise died down. ‘There will be a new son before summer’s end.’

‘Gaffer. I would speak.’ This time it was a florid, red-bearded farmer who had clearly been drinking hard.

‘Speak, Cropper. We are listening.’

‘There may well be a new son. But now there is a son without a father. My fields run close by Hayward’s fields. I have no son. I claim Sky for mine.’

‘No!’ shouted Sky, forgetting all protocol. ‘No! I am twelve! I can farm my land! I need no other father! Hayward taught me well!’

The Gaffer looked sideways at him. ‘Sir,’ added Sky in a smaller voice, remembering his manners.

‘You are eleven, Sky, and that is too young to be without a father. You know it. Why not Cropper?’

‘Sir,’ said Sky desperately. ‘Eleven is not too young to have a voice in this. Not Cropper, sir.’

‘Have you reasons?’

Sky had good reasons, but none he could usefully put forward in his defence. Cropper was unpopular in the Gifting because of his short temper, and the young made sport out of trying to provoke him. There had been a small problem when some of his chickens had mysteriously found their way through a closed window into his sleeping quarters, and then a rather bigger problem with a brook that Sky and Jay had dammed so that it flooded his yard. On that occasion Cropper had caught Sky and beaten him until he could hardly stand. The following evening Hayward had called Cropper out into the square. The fight had lasted nearly an hour, and Cropper had had to be carried home on a door. All of which the Gaffer knew well. Sky said ‘My father – I mean, Hayward – was not Cropper’s friend. It would dishonour his memory.’

‘What kind of milk-and-water reason is that?’ sneered Cropper. ‘Hayward’s fields need tending. I can tend them, with or without his brat. But he is in need of a father, and I know what is proper.’

The Gaffer looked from Sky to Cropper. ‘You have a temper, Cropper. Everyone knows it. I would not want that belt out of its loops too often. But …’ he looked back at Sky. ‘But it is proper. It is his place.’

‘Sir …’

‘I would speak,’ called a new voice.

There was a stir and murmur as the crowd moved aside. The speaker was in a chair by a corner table: a tall, dark-skinned man. His long hair was combed back, his face beardless and his elegant brown hands were not the hands of a farmer, but all the men looked at him with respect. There was no mug of beer on the table in front of him, only some sheets of written paper that he had been studying.

‘Speak then, Healer.’

‘If it please you, Gaffer. I, too, would claim Sky for my son.’ He looked round the room. ‘You need a healer and I will not be here for ever. Sky is a clever boy. One, perhaps, that I can train for your next healer. What do you say?’ He looked impassively at Cropper. ‘Cropper can take the fields, since he thinks he can tend them. But Sky deserves a better father than him.’

‘It is my right …’ bellowed Cropper. ‘I demand …’

The Gaffer stood and suddenly looked bigger. ‘Do you challenge me, Cropper?’ he asked softly.

There was an immediate hush, and the other men shuffled back to leave a space round Cropper. The two big men faced each other for a long moment.

‘Come on, then,’ said the Gaffer. ‘If you think you can.’

Cropper’s shoulders slumped. ‘I do not challenge you, Gaffer,’ he muttered.

‘Then be silent,’ said the Gaffer, and lowered himself into his chair again. ‘Sit,’ he added to Sky, pointing to a stool near his table. He turned to his gangsmen. ‘Council.’

The seven burly heads bent together over the table. Sky crouched on his stool, trying to overhear what they were saying. Gradually, conversation resumed in the room. Two of Cropper’s friends led him to the bar, and the healer bent over his papers again. Jaybird caught Sky’s eye and gave him a worried smile.

‘Come here, Sky,’ said the Gaffer softly. ‘No – don’t kneel. Just listen. You claimed a voice in this. Two men want to be your new father. We are minded to choose the healer. What do you say?’

‘Sir. If I must have a father, and if it cannot be you --’ some of the gangsmen laughed ‘-- then I would rather go to the healer and not Cropper.’

The Gaffer nodded. ‘You know he is not one of ours? He came to the village grown, he was not raised by us. He is not