The next day, Angel woke up to the sound of Donorcycle's loud chatty voice. She rolled off her mattress, dragging on some clothes and pulling an old hairbrush through her hair.
She walked out of her room into the living area, where Harmony and Donorcycle were talking.
Donorcycle wasn't a small woman. She was tall and Amazonian, an intimidating lady with pale skin and piercing grey eyes. Her short hair was a plain mousy brown, straight and lank.
Donorcycle was the closest thing they had to a doctor in The Sanctum. Occasionally med students would come in from Battery City to test their skills or "donate" their expertise in the manner of a Red Cross doctor. Donorcycle was not a med student. She'd been an army nurse back in the Fires, and as such had the hardened bedside manner of a war-scarred army doctor. She did not shy away from even the most horrific injuries, and wasn't fazed by even the goriest of situations. She treated her patients with a grim determination.
Despite her often less-than-sensitive bedside manner, she was a fantastic doctor and had a high success rate of bringing her patients back to full health. Her gruff exterior hid a big heart, and she was very close and personal with her patients, slapping them with the same stalwart love as any mother.
Donorcycle was the first port of call for any med students from Battery City, and currently she was training a flighty, skittish blonde girl called Kitty to be a midwife. Kitty did not have a strong stomach, and often fainted. But she shared Donorcycle's determination, and hadn't backed out at all during Harmony's pregnancy, sitting in at every house call that Donorcycle made, and learning voraciously from each stage of Harmony's pregnancy.
Kitty also had a much more compassionate bedside manner, soothing Harmony's fears with gentle words, restating Donorcycle's matter-of-fact diagnoses in an altogether more palatable fashion.
The two of them made a good pair, and Angel felt lucky that Harmony was being treated by them. She couldn't think of anyone else who could handle Harmony's pregnancy better than the two women.
Another aspect of Donorcycle's personality was that she was very talkative. She loved to chat while doling out medication, weighing patients, listening to heartbeats, and other processes. She was rarely quiet. You always heard Donorcycle long before you saw her.
As Angel walked into the living area, the three women looked up.
"Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" Donorcycle boomed. "You're just in time. I was just telling Harmony that, as far as can be gathered without an ultrasound, this baby couldn't be healthier. No defects that I can find, no diseases. If we're lucky, we might be in for another Coloured baby."
Donorcycle was, of course, talking about the new generation of children being born with brightly coloured hair and eyes, dark skin and special adaptations for desert life.
Donorcycle continued. "The baby's fully active, indicated by the kicking, which is always a good sign. And Harmony's showing all the typical signs of a mother carrying a healthy baby. She's also crabby as hell and moody as anything."
Kitty interjected before Harmony could open her mouth to blast Donorcycle. "What she means by that is that Harmony's hormonal levels are all at the appropriate stages for her pregnancy! Harmony's experiencing the typical mood swings and hormonal changes appropriate for her stage of pregnancy while her body prepares for the birth."
Kitty smiled nervously. "Donorcycle, please try not to upset the mother. We don't want a premature labour on our hands."
Donorcycle frowned. "I was perfectly civil!" she retorted.
"Now, as I was saying..." Donorcycle continued. "Angel, sit down. Now, do you two see how Harmony's stomach looks bigger all of a sudden in the past few weeks? Kind of sticking out a lot more? That's because the baby is slowly rotating into the position it needs to be in for the birth. Throughout the pregnancy, the baby is positioned upright, with the head just below the ribcage. But a few weeks or days before the birth, the baby rotates upside down so that its head rests in the pelvis. This is so that the baby is in the correct position for the birth once the labour starts. The fact that the baby is rotating is very good, as it means that we shouldn't need to perform a C-section. If the baby was still upright, we'd have to prepare for a C-section, because you can't give birth to a baby feet-first. Well, you could, but it usually results in the baby dying and the mother either dying as well or having terrible complications for the rest of her life."
Harmony made a squeaking sound. Kitty flapped her hands in front of Donorcycle's face in an effort to shut her up.
"Donorcycle! Now, Harmony, it's alright – Donorcycle's experienced in C-section births, and she's also teaching me to perform C-sections as well, so if we do experience complications, you'll be perfectly fine. But even so, it's evident that you shouldn't need a C-section. We should be able to carry out a natural birth without the need for surgical intervention. Alright?"
Harmony nodded, still pale. Donorcycle broke into a wide grin. "Excellent! Okay, we also have a new supply of medication for you. Kitty picked some up back in Battery City. This medication is designed to help you and your baby through this final stage, to prepare you two for the birth – you don't need the folate and vitamin supplements now. You been keeping up that diet I told you to follow?"
Harmony nodded. "But damn, meat is expensive," she complained. "I'm not made of resources. The bracelets I make aren't enough to pay for it. Midas had to take on more work just to make up the difference. Plus, I'm a vegetarian – I haven't eaten meat in years! Those first few months were awful."
"You want you and your baby to survive, you gotta get plenty of good fats and protein in your system," Donorcycle growled. "God dammit, Harmony. I'm not going to cater to your fucking hippy idealisms, I'm doing this for your baby, not you."
"Alright, alright," Harmony grumbled. "I told you, I'm eating the meat. I want this baby to survive too, believe it or not. I'm not an idiot. But I don't have to keep eating meat after the baby's born, do I?"
"You don't have to, but it'd be good for you to. Just to keep up your milk levels. I'll need to put you on a whole new diet for that."
"Which reminds me, you're going to have to teach me how to breastfeed."
"That's more Kitty's department. Now, for your birthing exercises.."
Kitty and Donorcycle began instructing Harmony, Kitty acting as Harmony's birthing partner, rather like a one-on-one birthing class.
Angel smiled. "I'll go for a walk then, okay?" she asked, pulling on her boots and grabbing a jacket – it was going to be a fierce day.
At that moment, Midas walked out of the basement, ruffling Angel's hair. "Nuh-uh, kiddo. You're coming with me. I have a job today and I'm going to need some help, so you're coming with me down to Black Jack's. Dice found some kids in the desert, and they want us to take a couple of of them in."
"What with the baby and all, we're not going to have any room as it is!" Harmony exclaimed. "Stupid Dice."
"Hey girlie, watch your mouth. It's my gang you're slandering." Donorcycle frowned at Harmony. "And besides, you're living on our land free of charge, no rent or nothing. You gotta start earning your keep at some stage."
"I know, I know," Harmony grumbled. "But still."
"We'll be back with these kids soon, okay?" Midas said. "I'll remind Black Jack about the baby, hopefully he can give us some decent kids that won't make trouble for us."
"Don't stay out too long!" Harmony said. "I need you to practise some of the exercises with me, Mr Big Daddy. You're going to be my partner in the birth, remember."
"I know," Midas said with a joyous grin. "Don't you worry, I've been practising."
Angel and Midas walked out of the house over to Midas's car – a big black Toyota 4WD ute parked in a small cave. It had a number of add ons, including dust screens on the windows, a Geiger counter in the dash, dust filters in the air conditioner, and Ed Hardy seat covers. It was Midas's pride and joy, his baby. Unfortunately, however, it tended to attract great colonies of spiders that lived in the ducts of the air conditioner.
Angel jumped into the tray of the ute, holding onto the winch attached to the cabin. Midas stared at her. "The dust is gonna rip you to pieces, you know!"
"I'll be fine," Angel said, holding up her bandanna and pulling a set of dust goggles over her eyes. "I came prepared."
"Aw, c'mon. I checked the air-con ducts, I cleaned out all the spiders yesterday."
"They could quite as easily have crawled back in overnight."
"No they couldn't have, you're overreacting."
The last time Angel had been in the cabin of the ute, a huge huntsman spider had flown out of the air conditioner. Midas had almost crashed the car in their hasty attempt to kill the creature. Angel didn't mind insects, but even a non-phobic like her wasn't exactly going to relish having a spider the size of her hand launched at her face.
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
"Nope."
"Fine, have fun in the back!"
"You bet I will!"
Midas shook his head and hopped into the cabin, starting the engine. With a rumble, the car reversed out of the little recess in the cliff, onto the road. And then they were off; rolling down the road, winding through streets and alleyways to the outskirts of the Sanctum, where Black Jack lived about an hour and a half away.
Black Jack was a major member of Dice and a key associate of Dice's leader, Russian Roulette. He dealt with new recruits and any lost refugees found wandering in the desert, usually Battery City escapees who didn't know where they were to go or what to do. He had been the person who took care of Angel and Harmony when they'd first arrived in The Sanctum, and he had eventually found them the house that they lived in now. He'd also been friends with Midas for years, and it was through Black Jack that Harmony had met the love of her life and the father of her unborn baby.
He was a big man, built like a tank. He was kind of like a black cat – you didn't dare cross his path, because, while he wasn't exactly unlucky, he could still ruin your day with an injury or two if you pissed him off.
He also played drums as a hobby.
He lived in an abandoned ranch, having converted the old stables into small rooms for whatever refugees came his way until he could relocate them in The Sanctum. Until he could introduce them into The Sanctum's community, he put the refugees to work on the ranch tending stolen GM crops and a small collection of emaciated cattle.
The ranch was still within the valley, just outside of The Sanctum, next to a creek that ran into the lake. It was an idyllic area, and the perfect environment for the GM crops that Black Jack had stolen from BL/ind. It didn't take long to get there.
The ute stopped outside the gates. A sunburnt man stood there, a refugee who'd obviously been put on guard duty. "Who goes there?" he called.
Midas rolled down the window. "Midas and Angel. I'm a close friend of Black Jack. Radio him, he'll tell you."
The man nervously pulled out the radio. "Black Jack, this is Eagle 1. Eagle 1 calling Black Jack, over."
The voice that came on the radio was staticky and barely audible. "Eagle 1, this is Black Jack, over."
Midas grabbed the radio. "Hey, Black Jack, Midas here. Mind telling your guard to let us in? Over."
"Jimmy, let them in, I'm expecting them. Over and out."
The sunburnt man, Jimmy, nodded and pulled open the gate. Midas rolled in, driving down the road until he came to a stop outside of the house.
Angel jumped out of the back as Midas climbed out of the cabin. The two walked up to the door, which swung open as they approached.
Black Jack lumbered outside, all six-feet-ten-inches of him. He opened his arms in greeting. Midas walked up and embraced him, thumping him on the back. One of those ridiculous man-hugs.
"Good to see ya, Midas, good to see ya. And Angel!" Black Jack swept Angel into a crushing hug. "The last time I saw you, you were a skinny little weed barely up to my waist. And look at you! You're all grown now. How old are ya, kid?"
"Seventeen."
"Look at that, she's practically a woman. You two come inside, now. I got a treat for ya."
They walked into the big house, Black Jack leading them into the kitchen. He picked up two bananas off the counter, throwing one at Midas and the other at Angel. Angel stared at the fruit in shock. Bananas? In the desert?
"Black Jack, you dog! Where on earth did you get these?" Midas exclaimed, poring over the banana's gleaming yellow skin.
Black Jack beamed. "We grew them!" he said.
"No way! Everyone knows that bananas don't grow in the desert."
"Well these ones do. And best of all, they've got seeds – these bananas can reproduce."
Typical bananas did not have seeds – banana trees had to be cloned in a laboratory to produce a plantation. And typical bananas didn't grow in deserts – the environment was too dry and caused the soft plants to wither.
"They genetically modified regular bananas so that they can grow without much water, and so that they can be grown from seeds. Watch them, though, the seeds are bitter."
Angel by this stage had peeled her banana and had just taken a bite. Black Jack was right – the pulpy fruit contained little black seeds that tasted very bitter. But it was worth it for the sweet fruit. Angel had forgotten what bananas tasted like.
"I'll start selling them in The Sanctum soon. That'll bring a lot of business!" Black Jack beamed. "Now, speaking of business..."
"Uh, BJ old buddy," Midas interjected. "Look, I know it's only fair that we take on a couple of kids, but keep in mind, I gotta baby on the way, we don't need any kid who's gonna make trouble for us."
"I know, I know," Black Jack said. "I'm well aware of Harmony's condition, I know she's in no state to be chasing after rowdy teenagers. So I handpicked these girls myself. They're great kids, very respectful and hardworking..."
Angel had stopped listening when Black Jack said "girls". Girls! Teenagers! Did that mean she would finally have some girls her age to hang out with? Her heart thumped inside her chest.
As he talked, Black Jack led them out of the kitchen into a sort of drawing room with a dusty old piano in it.
There were two girls in the room.
One of them, a small girl with purplish-black hair and pale skin, sat huddled on a couch with her head bowed. Her bony hands were clasped tightly around her knees.
The other one, a taller and older girl with a body in the process of becoming Amazonian, sat at the piano, tinkering curiously at the keys.
Angel stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the second girl.
She was Coloured.
Her skin was a dark Indian brown, covered with a light coat of fine downy hair. Her hair was a long wild mane of white, with various streaks of rainbow colours. She was slender and long-bodied, only just developing biceps.
She looked up. Her eyes were white with black pupils, but as her eyes darted around the room, Angel saw iridescent flashes of colour in her irises.
Her eyes were rimmed with heavy black lines. Angel had seen the eye-lines on other kids too. They completely outlined the eyes and were drawn into a point that ran along the sides of their noses, like cheetah eye-markings. Donorcycle had theorised that they acted like cheetah eye-markings too, preventing glare from the sun and making visibility easier.
But one thing marked her different from the other Coloured kids, aside from her age – she had bizarre markings on her face shaped like eyes.
There were six of them – one pair just above her eyebrows, and two pairs below her eyes, on her cheekbones. Giving her two real eyes, and six fake eyes – eight eyes in total. Were they tattoos? What did they mean?
The girl smiled.
"Midas, Angel, meet Phobia and Poison," Black Jack announced. "Poison over there may look pretty small and weedy, but she's a fiesty kid in reality, and she'll happily perform any task you give her, no matter how difficult. She's a determined one, she is."
Poison looked up and flashed Midas and Angel a smile. She had sharp bright green eyes and a pointed face with full, cupid's bow lips. She was pretty in a petite, exotic way.
"And over here at the piano is our resident runaway Phobia. We think she may have been captured and experimented on by BL/ind because of her tattoo." Obligingly, Phobia pulled up her sleeve to show a barcode tattoo on her shoulder, with "BL/ind property" and the BL/ind smiley face logo below it.
"However, she has amnesia, so nobody really knows where she came from. But she and Poison hit it off pretty well from the start, so I thought it would be best to keep them together."
Black Jack looked pleadingly at Midas. "They're good girls," he said. "They work hard, and they won't cause you any trouble. Phobia in particular is really great at handling blood and injuries – she has no fear of gore, and she's a natural at first aid. She could be useful for the birth if you can get Donorcycle to show her the ropes of basic obstetrics."
He waved a hand at Poison. "And like I said, Poison will perform any task you give her. She's a fast learner and works hard."
He looked pointedly at Angel. "And they're about your age, kiddo. Poison's sixteen, and we reckon that Phobia's about eighteen or nineteen. They'd be good for companionship as well."
Midas frowned in thought. "Hmm," he said. "Well, we won't know until we know them a little better. Can we stay for a couple hours? You and me can pop a couple beers, and Angel here can scout these two out for me. I trust her judgement." Midas winked at Angel.
Jack Black. "Midas, really? You think I would have beer on me?"
"I know you do! You have a whole deal going with the Battery Buccaneers. You give them fresh food, they give you whatever pirated goods they can steal out of Battery City that you want. And I know you always loved your beer!"
Black Jack shook his head. "I think you're starting to know me a little too well, old friend. Ah well, a couple of beers on the porch it is then, while we let these girls get to know each other."
The two men walked out of the room, Midas throwing Angel an encouraging grin just before they closed the door.
And then Angel was alone with the two girls.
"Um," she said.
Poison gave her an encouraging smile. "Angel, huh?" she said. "That's a pretty name. Original name, or taken name?"
"Taken," Angel said. "My sister always used to call me it when I was little, so I took it when we ran away. You?"
"Taken, of course. What parent would call their child Poison?" Poison laughed. "I got it from a book called Poison. It was about a girl who called herself Poison and she went on all these crazy adventures. I kind of identified with the character. So when I ran away, I took the name."
Phobia smiled. "Poison gave me my name," she said. "Before that I was nameless."
"She was all scared and jumpy when she first came," Poison explained. "Terrified of everything. Panophobic, I think it's called when you're afraid of everything. So we called her Panaphobic, then eventually shortened it to Phobia. So it just stuck from then on."
"So," Angel said. "You two have been here a while, huh?"
"Yeah," Poison said. "I've been here about six months."
"I've been here for about three," Phobia added. "How long have you been in The Sanctum?"
"Well I was here with my sister for about a year," Angel said. "Then she met Midas, and Black Jack found us a place that we all fitted in. We've lived out in the desert for a total of about seven years now."
"So you've been out here a while," Poison said, her voice full of awe. "I've only been in the desert for about two years. I was working in a colony before I ran off and found this place."
"You get used to it pretty quick," Angel said. "So... do you guys like walking?"
Poison gave her a confused smile. "Well... yeah. I guess. Why?"
"There's this amazing view from the plateau – you know, the one where you go out onto when you leave the mountain ranges? In the evening the view is spectacular. I like walking out there a lot, but it's lonely sometimes."
"That sounds wonderful," Phobia said, her eyes bright. "I love sunsets. We'll have to go with you."
Angel began to smile. She was beginning to like these girls more and more.
It seemed her wish for friends was finally being granted – and not only was she getting just one friend like she wished for, but two!
She was still burningly curious about Phobia though. How could she be Coloured if she was born long before the Fires started? Before the nuclear warheads began falling? How was it possible? And what about the markings on her face? Did she get tattoos, or was she born with them?
However, she had the feeling that Phobia wouldn't know either. If she was amnesiac, then there was no way she could know.
Poison was beaming happily. "I'm so glad we're all getting along so well!"
"Me too," Angel said. "I've been wanting a friend or two to hang out with for ages now. There's not many kids our age around The Sanctum, mainly just little kids – the generation of kids born out here, you know?"
"Yeah," Poison said. "I guess not that many kids our age would go running off into the desert like idiots."
"So," Angel said, "is there anything I should know about you two now? Like... I dunno, allergies, likes, dislikes?"
Poison smirked. "I don't eat chilli," she said. "I'm not allergic, but I hate it so much that it makes me sick nonetheless. Also I'm not great with too much sun or heat. I'll endure it if I have to, but I'm a little more likely to get sunstroke than other people. Hence the paleness."
"I'll eat anything that isn't processed," Phobia said. "Nobody knows why, but canned or preserved food makes me violently ill. I can eat meat and vegetables and fresh stuff, but something in preserved food doesn't agree with me at all."
"That's okay," Angel said. "Harmony – my sister – she's a real hippy, she doesn't like processed food either. She has a little vegetable garden, she tries to make fresh food as much as possible. Oh, and she hates chilli too, Poison. Besides, who eats hot food in the desert anyway?"
Poison grinned. "My sentiments exactly!"
"Also," Poison added, "Phobia can't handle bright colours too well. Which is usually okay, but some people like to go overboard on really bright coloured clothes and stuff, and that gives Phobia headaches."
Phobia nodded. "Again, nobody knows why that is," she said. "Black Jack thinks it might have something to do with my treatment at BL/ind. Maybe they tried to train me to hate colour or something."
"Man, you're a really weird girl, you know that?" Angel said exasperatedly. Phobia and Poison laughed.
"Yeah, I'm a weird one, I know," Phobia said, sticking out her tongue at Angel. "But I try. I try."
"You wanna know what else is weird?" Poison said. She grabbed Angel's hand and laid it over Phobia's forehead. To Angel's shock, Phobia's skin was cool to the touch.
"Jesus, you're just like the Coloured kids," Angel blurted out. She'd never touched a Coloured kid, but once Harmony had babysat for a couple who'd had two Coloured kids. She'd come home raving about how when she kissed them goodnight, they were cold as cadavers and she'd freaked, thinking they were sick, but the parents had reassured her that they were always cold like that.
However, Poison and Phobia looked at Angel in confusion.
"What?" Poison said. "You know 'coloured' is kind of a racist description, right?"
"Sorry, sorry," Angel said. "But I don't mean coloured in that way. Um.. you two haven't seen any of the desert-born kids yet, have you?"
The two girls shook their heads.
"I didn't think so," Angel said. "Look... when you get to The Sanctum, you'll see a lot of kids – all of them no older than the age of seven – who look, well, different."
She looked at Phobia. "The only kids who survived childbirth out here are kind of like a new breed. We call them 'Coloured' because they have really crazy coloured eyes and hair. Like, not brown or black or blonde, but yellow and green and pink. Or multiple colours. They also have dark, cool skin like yours, and they're all thin and slender. They also have markings outlining their eyes like yours, like cheetah markings. And other adaptations, like sharper teeth and stuff. They're basically adapted to survive in the desert better than we can. And they're all just like you."
Phobia's pale eyes were wide. "Kids like me?" she echoed. "They all... look like me?"
"Younger, of course, and the hair and eye colour varies. But basically, yeah."
Phobia stared at the wall. "Kids like me," she murmured. "Interesting."
"But they were all born after the Fires," Angel said. "In the desert. Maybe the radiation mutated our genes, I dunno. But.. you're even older than I am."
She stared at Phobia. "How could you be Coloured if you were born before the Fires were even a possibility?"
Phobia looked confused, scared. "I don't know," she said. "I just don't remember. God, I wish I could remember, but I just don't." She looked up at Angel. "Do they... do they have tattoos like me?"
Angel shook her head. "The eye tattoos? No. The eye markings are the only extra markings they have."
Phobia looked down again. "So I'm still different," she murmured.
Poison looked worried. "It's okay," she interjected. "We don't have to worry about that stuff, okay? Let's just think about, you know, more immediate stuff." She cracked a smile. "Besides, isn't it exciting that there are kids like you? You're not gonna be 'weird' anymore!"
"Not quite," Phobia said, but she said it with a tiny smile on her lips.
There was a knocking on the door. "Hey, Angel!" Midas called, before opening the door to look in on the girls. "Black Jack and I finished our beers. You girls come to a decision yet?"
Angel smiled. "They're definitely coming with us," she said.