Chapter Four:

Public Property

Lana braced her arms against the cold as she stood amongst the crowd of women shivering in the dull afternoon. She had not realised just how big New Prentisstown was until she saw all three-thousand people plus the army gathered in one place. It was the morning after the bomb had gone off, and President Prentiss had rallied the entire town to the steps in front of his Cathedral. The explosion had destroyed a convenience store, with a second bomb planted at the site designed to kill any soldiers drawn to the wreckage. It had succeeded in killing four that morning, and injuring another two. The President blamed the attack on a resistance movement known as The Answer. The group had played a vital role in the fighting during the Spackle War, being made up entirely of women, who, being Noiseless, had a natural advantage when it came to stealth and guerrilla tactics.

"Make no mistake," the President said, "we will crush these terrorists together and make this planet a paradise, no matter what it takes."

Another three attacks came by the week's end, targeting food stores, water silos, and a café where another two soldiers were killed. The biggest of the raids happened in broad daylight, with the Spackle barn and an old communications tower being attacked in unison. The sounds of the explosions had been so lout that Lana had thought for sure that it must be the end of everything. Still, the world had kept on turning. She almost wished that it had not.

Lana had seen little of Avery since the night of the bomb, but whenever she could sneak away from her duties the two sisters would whisper through the windows of the dormitories, dreaming of an escape which might never come to fruition. On the night of the explosion Lana had been escorted back to the main House of Healing, where it had become apparent that the Mistresses had used the confusion caused by the blast to flee the town with every able-bodied woman. Only Viola and a single apprentice were left behind to care for the sickly women, and Collins had marched Lana over to the second House of Healing, where she had remained.

The fact that the Answer was made up entirely of women meant that all women were placed under suspicion, and further restricted from moving about the town. There was no more cause for making skirts, with half the town's women having vanished; Lana found herself thrust into laborious field work, a slave to the threshing machines and reapers, until one day Captain Collins came by asking for her. Lana reached for a shawl as he entered; he waved his arm dismissively.

"No need to bother with all that. I couldn't care less if you wear what the President demands of you or nothing at all. I've found you some proper work. The President wants some uniforms made, and I told him I knew just the girl. I didn't tell him your little secret, only that you know your way around a needle. The President wants you to make something suitable for two young men." Collins dropped a pile of navy fabric along with four silver 'A's, wrought by a blacksmith, onto the desk. "Do you think you're up to the job?"

Lana touched the sharp silver of one of the A's. "If I do this for you, does that make us even?"

Collins grinned. "You're not getting off that easy, sugar. You still owe me that favour."

Lana agreed to Collins' proposal, glad for the opportunity to be free of the field work which burned her skin and left her exhausted, even if that meant working for the President. She had no idea who would be wearing the uniforms, or what the 'A' might stand for. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know. She worked alone during the day whilst everyone else worked the fields. That made her resented by some, but a person of interest to others. One day at dinner time, as Lana gathered up plates, she was stopped by the self-appointed matron of the House, Helena.

"I hear you're working for our President," Helena said, with the same touch of sarcasm Lana used when she referred to the man by that title.

"I'm sewing a couple of uniforms for him, that's all."

"Still, a foot in the door might present bigger opportunities down the line," Helena said. Lana dared to ask what she had suspected for a long time.

"Are you part of the Answer, Helena?"

The woman's eyes glinted. "What is it our President says? 'All women are part of The Answer by nature of their being sympathetic to other women.' That includes you, Lana."

The short exchange haunted Lana as she worked on the uniforms. She was sympathetic to the Answer and understood what they were trying to do, and she hated the President's regime with a passion which made her weep most nights, but she wanted nothing to do with the Answer's violent ways. They had made life under the President's rule even worse for the people left behind; their bomb raids had destroyed supplies, incurred the wrath of the soldiers, and left dozens dead or injured. It was not just the President's men who had been killed in the attacks; innocents had died too. Every day she feared that her sister would die at their hand.

The House of Healing quickly became more and more empty as women suspected of cavorting with the Answer were dragged away to be interrogated; some never returned. Working for the President afforded her some protection, which at times felt more of a curse than a blessing. The same day that she finished the uniforms for Captain Collins, the Answer killed all of the Spackle and liberated three-hundred captives from the old House of Healing, which had come to serve as a prison. As a distraction, they had blown up the bunkhouse where Captain Tate's soldiers had been sleeping; after that, the women in the dormitory were not alone anymore. That night soldiers had come seeking retribution against the Answer, led by Captain Hammar. Finding none of the Answer, they followed their President's line of reasoning and blamed the attacks on every woman. Lana found herself in the barricaded food hall with the other women, but mentally she was back in Farbranch, stumbling into the woods as the women in the Town Hall were gunned down.

The next morning Helena had answered the door to Captain Hammar, and had spat at his feet.

"We want to speak with Captain Tate," she demanded.

Hammar grinned at her through his cigarette smoke.

"Tate's no longer assigned to the women's quarters, on account of all of his men having been blown to bits. From now on you deal with me. President's got a surprise for you this morning; but I don't think any of you are going to like it."

Lana was ordered into the main hall with the rest of the women. After a few minutes of silent fretting the doors to the main hall were opened again, and in stepped two young men. Lana was surprised to see that they were wearing the uniforms which she herself had sewn, with shiny silver 'A's glittering upon their shoulders.

The smaller of the two drifted into the room as though dreaming, his Noise almost inaudible. It was the taller boy who caught Lana's attention. He had not been taking the Cure like most other soldiers, and his Noise was as anxious and jittery as his long limbs. She recognised him as the President's son, who she had seen among the flames of Farbranch. He looked even more like his father now that he was clean and dressed in the smart new suit. Lana noted absently that she had cut his trousers a little too short.

"You're late," Hammar growled, handing the President's son a black sack.

"You got somewhere better to be?" the boy said, kissing his teeth. "Line 'em up."

The other boys dragged a chairs to the front of each line. Both looked exhausted; there had been three more bombings during the night, which meant that no one in New Prentisstown had got much sleep. The President's son pulled something shimmering out of the sack and climbed atop one of the chairs. The metal strip in his hand gleamed beneath the skylight. Lana's heart dropped. It was a cattle brand.

The uproar was instant. The soldiers struggled to quiet the crowds, who were only silenced when Captain Hammar raised his rifle.

"If yer innocent you shouldn't have any problem with wearing an ID bracelet!" the President's son shouted, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. Lana scoffed at the euphemism. They were far from 'ID bracelets.' The bands were corrosive, designed to cut into the skin. Once bolted to the flesh they were permanent; should they be removed, their wearer would bleed to death.

"Who's first?" the boy asked.

Even the threat of the rifles was enough to make the women step towards the branding of their own accord. Setting a brave example, Helena was the first to step forward. She walked towards the President's son of her own accord, her arm outstretched.

"You won't get away with this," she said. Captain Hammar cocked his rifle.

"I'm getting away with it right now."

The boy bolted her arm and she fell forwards, clutching at her new brand. Lana supressed the urge to break free of the line and go to her.

"Get up," the President's son said, touching Helena with the heel of his boot. "So the Healer's can treat you."

Helena got up. Her eyes fixed onto the near-Noiseless boy.

"Where's your heart?" she spat. "Where's your heart, if you can do such things?"

The boy didn't say a word. He seemed to be somewhere else entirely, his Noise vacant. Lana thought he might be the boy from Farbranch, the one who had led the army to their door… she had only seen the shape of him in the Noise of the town, passed from man to man like a Chinese whisper so that the image was distorted, but there were those same features; the skinny frame, the curly auburn hair, the freckles. If it was him, he looked older and less fiery than the boy who had pulled a knife on Matthew Lyle.

The older boy reached down for the next band, holding it up to the light so that he could read its number.

"1485!"

Lana waited anxiously for her turn, each step forward feeling like a step towards the gallows. The other women talked in hushed, frightened voices, clutching at their arms as though they had already been banded. Captain Hammar and the quiet boy began struggling with a woman who was screaming loud enough to shatter the skylight in the roof above. The President's son sailed through his bands, and soon enough Lana found herself at the front of the line.

"1595!"

Lana stepped forwards, frowning at the silver 'A''s which gleamed on either shoulder of the boy's suit. Would she have agreed to the job, had she known what use her handiwork would be put to? He had his father's ocean-coloured eyes. It was only then, seeing him up close for the first time, that she recognised him for who he really was. The stable-boy.

He recognised her, too. She looked very different to how he remembered her; she had looked so small and broken in the barn, but he saw now that she was tall and curvaceous, and quite pretty without all the bruising. His Noise became echoey, filling up suddenly with worries and you keep the whores, shoot the rest and Girl Colt and where's your heart? Then came the pictures, memories of her in the stables lying near comatose between the horses, and how he had got her onto his horse and taken her straight to the Houses of Healing where the Mistresses could take care of her, and hadn't told a single soul about it, not even Todd.

Lana could see in his Noise how she had shivered in his arms as he had carried her out of the stables, and how her head had rested on his chest as they'd rode to the House of Healing. The band was still in his hand. 1595. It lay there like a dead thing.

Don't cry, his Noise jittered, too loud for him to try and squash it down. Jesus oh Jesus don't cry.

Lana stepped a little closer, holding out her arm in the same way that Helena had, trying to be brave. He took her arm gently. Lana felt in his Noise how cold to the touch she had been that morning in the stables and how warm she was now, when he had been certain that she'd had no chance of ever being warm again. His hand shook a little as he wrapped the band around her arm. He clamped the two ends loosely together in the bolting tool, but did not twist them together.

There was nothing else for it. To refuse would cause askings, not just from Hammar and Todd but from his Pa, too. He had a job to do; why should this girl be any different to all the rest? There was a wrestling in his Noise and a flare of red as he gave the two ends of the band a hard twist. Lana did not cry out, even as blood began to stream down her arm.

Sorry, Davy said with his Noise, but his lips did not move. Taking one last glance at him, the girl moved along.

Davy's hands shook as he banded the next woman, and the woman after that. Looking up to see his next subject, he saw that it was a girl of no more than twelve. He tossed the bolting tool into the bag with the metal bands and stood up.

"Where you going?" Hammar asked.

"For a piss," Davy said. "Actually, you know what, screw that. I'm going home. I've had enough for the day."

"We've still got more than a hundred left to band," the younger boy said. Davy sneered at him.

"Do it yourself, Pigpiss."

The Noise of the President's son chased him like an angry cloud as he pushed his way out of the dormitory. Lana watched him go, cradling her bloodied arm.

~oOo~

"Sir?" Avery called, hurrying to keep pace with the President's horse as he returned from his evening canter around the town. Morpeth tensed as Avery approached, staring at her with one wild eye.

Submit, the stallion snapped at her. Avery stepped back. President Prentiss had grown distant from her in the weeks since the bombings had begun; she had spoken to him no more than a handful of times, and he seemed increasingly disinterested. The special bond they had shared out on the road had quickly eroded, and he seemed to have turned all of his attentions to his son's friend, Todd Hewitt. He glanced down at her as though the effort might kill him. Avery snapped a salute, remembering her manners.

"What is it, Private?" the President asked.

"Last night's bomb… the soldiers who were caught in the second explosion. My friend, Alex Pepperstone, is part of Captain Tate's division; they were the ones sent to excavate the bomb site. No one seems to know anything. Could you tell me if he's safe?"

Prentiss continued riding towards the stables.

"Surely you can't expect me to memorise the names of every casualty in my army, Avery. You're more than welcome to visit the mortuary and look over the bodies, though you might not be able to identify your friend among the dead; they'll be mostly blood and bones, I'm afraid."

Avery looked at him in shock. Why was he being so callous, so cruel? She heard Noise drifting from the window of a room above the stables. The President looked up and called out,

"Is there a reason you're home from your work so early, David?"

Avery was surprised to see the President's son emerging from below the window, where he had clearly been crouching to avoid detection. She had come to dislike him for his crass nature and viciousness towards the Spackle labourers as they had slaved away at the building which was now the Office of the Ask.

"I felt sick so I came home early," Davy mumbled. Avery was puzzled. Why would the President's son be living above the stables?

"And left Todd to do all the work by himself, I imagine. How very characteristic of you."

Davy's cheeks burned red. Avery saw in his Noise a flicker of jealousy towards Todd, the same she had felt directed at herself when they had crossed paths in the Cathedral.

"Since you're here you can come down and see to Morpeth," the President said. "And don't let it happen again."

"I won't, Pa," the boy said, emerging to grab hold of the horses reigns. Morpeth immediately began to bite his hand. Avery sensed a sudden shyness in Davy. "We gonna do something this weekend? I thought we could go for a ride or something, you know, since it'll be my birthday."

The President began walking towards the Cathedral. "Perhaps, if there's time, once you've attended to your duties."

"Sir?" Avery called after him. He did not so much as turn back. Davy looked at her for a long moment, really noticing her for the first time since the Cathedral.

"You too, huh?" He said. "Welcome to the club."

Davy began leading the irate stallion into the barn. His Noise pulsed as he went, thinking effing horse and I hope he gets me something and looks a bit like her. And for a moment, just a moment, Avery could have sworn she saw her sister in his Noise.

~oOo~

Avery drifted back to the bunkhouse past curfew and was met at the door by Captain Collins. He pulled a face as she stepped through the door, interrupting his game of cards.

"What time do you call this, Private? I've warned you about sneaking out to see that sister of yours."

Avery said nothing. Her Noise was open in a way Collins hadn't seen it before, rolling with grief. He saw the truth of where she had been, saw the blown-up bodies laid out on the tables in the mortuary, pieced together like poorly-fitting jigsaws. Avery had seen plenty of death on the march to New Prentisstown, but nothing like what she had seen in the morgue. She was thinking of Alex Pepperstone, and how the skin of his cheek had been blown away so that his teeth could be seen through the skin.

Avery's legs wobbled beneath her. She sat down on the nearest cot and began to sniffle. Collins sent the other men away and sat beside her on the bed.

"Sorry about your friend."

He saw from her Noise that, at one time at least, he had been more than a friend. She began to weep openly.

"Pull it together, kid. You act hysterical like that in front of the President and you won't be around for long."

Avery's Noise prickled red at the thought of the man who had dismissed her grief so easily. It blushed from purple to a miserable blue as her thoughts turned to Lana.

"How am I going to tell my sister?" she said weakly.

Collins did not know what to say. He put a hand on the girl's back, and was surprised when she leant her head against his shoulder, insensible with crying. In spite of his surprise, he did not pull away.