Deadlands Read Free

city.’
    ‘You mean so that I don’t embarrass you?’ I sat up, and Chinwag zooted to the end of the bed where she began licking a paw.
    The Mantis didn’t answer.
    ‘I’ll go to your stupid school,’ I said, reaching over and grabbing the boots out of her grasp. ‘But on my terms.’
    She opened her mouth to fire back at me, but then Jobe tapped her knee and murmured, ‘Shhhhh.’
    So you see, right then I wasn’t the happiest person in the world. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of self-pitying freak, but let’s face it – things were bad. What I didn’t know, and couldn’t have guessed, was that they were about to get a whole lot worse.

3
    It’s weird, but I hardly remember anything about life before the War, even when I really try. I mean, I was only seven when it all kicked off, but I should still remember stuff, shouldn’t I? I have only a vague recollection of the flat we lived in before the Rotters came; it was small and smelled of Mom’s cigarettes, and we had to climb up several flights of steps to reach the front door. In fact, my only clear memories are of the years Jobe and I lived with Gran in the Agriculturals. We were happy there. She loved us.
    But that was then. Ancient history. And, like the Mantis said, I didn’t have a choice.
    So that morning I put on the scratchy grey tunic and pulled the thick woollen stockings over my legs. The unfamiliar clothes were at least a size too big. I’m always getting teased about how skinny I am, but it’s not my fault. I eat as much as anyone; it just doesn’t stick to my ribs.
    As if he’d picked up on my mood, Jobe clung to my legs as I grabbed Gran’s ancient Billabong rucksack – the one she’d kept safe through the years after the War. I gently pried him loose and knelt down to face him. ‘Listen, Jobe. You have to stay here. You have to behave for Dad. ’Kay?’
    I gave him a hug that was really more for my benefit than his, but as I pulled away I was almost sure that I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Sometimes this happened, and it made all the other times, the times he stared off into space, sing-songing to himself, bearable.
    The Mantis was already ensconced in the rickshaw by the time I made my way outside. ‘Leletia,’ she snapped. ‘Hurry up.’
    I hated going by rickshaw. The men and women who pulled them along the streets all ran barefoot and that day our driver was a hefty woman with long blonde hair and ginormous shoulders. I smiled at her apologetically as I heaved myself in next to the Mantis, but she barely acknowledged me.
    The Mantis’s bulbous eyes skated over my body and she nodded in approval at the leather sandals I was wearing. I smiled to myself. There was no way I was going to let on that I’d hidden my boots in the bottom of the backpack.
    The rickshaw driver started pulling us away from the house, hucking and jumping to get the momentum going. It was still early, but already the streets were crammed with bodies scurrying to and fro. The rain fell in steady sheets, pitter-pattering on the rickshaw’s tarpaulin roof, but the wet weather didn’t stop the hawkers trying to tempt us with pancakes of boiled spinach, or the sheep’s heads and pigs’ trotters that bubbled and frothed in drums at every corner. The smoke melded with the stench of molten tar as workers slaved away to pave the muddy roadways. I hated it. The endless greyness and people-made fakeness of it made my eyes hurt. Everywhere you looked there was concrete or mud, not a sign of a tree or even a blade of grass.
    ‘You look really pretty in your uniform,’ the Mantis said in her ‘look, I’m your friend’ voice. A total lie of course. I looked like a freak, and I longed for my hoody and jeans. Pretending not to hear her, I stared out at the passing rickshaws and the half-completed buildings that lined the street.
    ‘Look, Leletia,’ the Mantis said, after a lengthy silence. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
    I honestly