Kayleb wasn’t sure what to do, he looked to see if there were any footprints or signs of a scuffle but there was nothing. He was starting to feel cold. There was a breeze blowing and Kayleb was beginning to panic. He thought that Rowan had been caught by wasters and was, at this very moment, being thrown into a stud pen. The wind dropped, Kayleb could hear someone in the distance; he could hear Rowan talking. His voice came from beyond a clump of gorse bushes and he seemed to be talking to someone. Kayleb made his way to the gorse bushes. Rowan’s words carried clearly on the breeze now. He wasn’t talking exactly; he seemed to be reciting poetry. Kayleb was surprised. Romantic poetry was the last thing he associated Rowan with; it was certainly not encouraged at home in London. There were underground societies that ran illegal romantic writing classes but these groups were soon discovered and terminated.
‘Your eyes a summer’s dream to me of long cool grass and tranquil sea ...’ Rowan’s words flowed like silk. ‘I saw you in a vision. I saw your smile a million times and I pray that you will come to me.’
Kayleb walked around a gorse bush and there in front of him was Rowan naked. Also sitting there in front of Rowan was Cornwall. She seemed completely oblivious to everything around her and gazed admiringly at Rowan. Rowan continued reciting love poetry, rapt by Cornwall’s spell.
‘You floated to me like a whisper and set me free. You are a sailing boat and I am your tranquil sea.’
Kayleb was quite shocked and could only stand there staring at them. Even though he had just found Rowan’s nightclothes, he hadn’t expected to find him naked. He was relieved that he could only see his back and then realised that Cornwall could see everything.
‘What do you think you’re doing? What have you done to him?’ Kayleb asked Cornwall forcefully.
Cornwall looked at Kayleb with distaste, as if Kayleb had just ruined her special moment.
‘I’ve just hypnoed him. What’s wrong about that? He won’t know. He’s mine. I could do the same to you, only you’re ugly, so I’m going to give you away.’
Kayleb was taken aback. Being told he was ugly was quite a surprise and suddenly becoming her property to be given away wasn’t what he was expecting either.
‘What are you talking about? You can’t hypnotise me because it doesn’t work on me and we are definitely not yours! My mentor is head of the Law Enforcement Department and he’ll have you thrown out of London as a waster.’ On reflection he wished he hadn’t said this as it seemed that Cornwall was in fact already banished from London, or perhaps Paris, and this threat would make no difference to her at all.
Cornwall looked Kayleb up and down. He felt as if he was being sized up and he tried to make himself look taller and more masterful. He had defeated a warlord in his ICE episode; he could outwit Cornwall.
Cornwall sighed and raised her hand. She made to click her fingers.
‘Stop!’ yelled Kayleb. ‘I or you had better put his clothes on again. I’m certainly not going to explain why he’s sitting here stark naked.’
Grumpily, Cornwall stomped over to the tree and collected the nightclothes and asked Rowan to dress himself, which he did in his trance-like state. Rowan had some difficulty replacing his arms in the sleeves of his nightshirt, so Kayleb came over to help. Kayleb had his arm up Rowan’s sleeve and had him by the hand up near the armpit, when without warning Cornwall clicked her fingers. Rowan wasn’t pleased to find Kayleb rummaging in his nightshirt and leapt back alarmed.
‘What on earth are you doing, Kayleb?’ shouted Rowan, pushing his arm through his shirt sleeve
Kayleb held up his hands in despair; he couldn’t explain. Rowan was puzzled. Only seconds ago he had been swimming.
He felt his clothes; they were almost dry. What had happened to him? For the first time ever he felt vulnerable and lost for words. What on earth was Kayleb doing to him? Kayleb had overstepped the mark this time.
‘Just keep away from me, you perv!’ Kayleb frowned. How could he explain?
‘You hungry? I’ve brought you some tigeagle; it’s fresh,’ Cornwall said, collecting the bucket from a tree stump.
Cornwall brought the bucket over to them full of meat. It was charred in places but it looked good. Rowan and Kayleb were starving and it was a welcome sight.
‘It’s quite fresh. The men caught it yesterday and it was spit- roasted last night. This won’t be missed. You might want to be mine if I feed you,’ she added hopefully, addressing Rowan.
The meat tasted good, as things do if you are really hungry, and Rowan and Kayleb were very grateful. Rowan wasn’t sure what Cornwall meant by being hers and these words seemed vaguely familiar. He watched her sitting cross-legged on the tree stump humming to herself. Her eyes were such an unusual green. She fascinated him.
‘Cornwall’s turned out to be all right. Don’t you think her eyes are the colour of grass? They’re so green, I could watch them for hours,’ said Rowan as Kayleb took a large mouthful of tigeagle.
Kayleb nearly choked, trying to stop himself from laughing. If only Rowan knew the half of it.
‘Like a tranquil sea, you mean! You really are so naive, Rowan. That girl isn’t what she seems,’ whispered Kayleb. ‘What would you say if I told you that only half an hour ago, you were sitting there with no clothes on spouting poetry, with that girl as your audience.’
‘I’d say that you were completely mad,’ said Rowan, scowling.
‘I thought you’d say that,’ said Kayleb, smiling.
Rowan looked out at the lake and knew that something had happened. There were too many coincidences, which were now being hurled into the air and were firing up deep-seated memories. He couldn’t understand why Cornwall mesmerised him so. He would have to be careful and decided that it was best to avoid eye contact with Cornwall if he was going to get home in one piece.
‘So Cornwall,’ said Rowan warily, ‘what do you know of sixteen-year taskers and the wilderness? Do we stand a chance of getting back to London? Or can’t you tell us?
‘No, I can tell you,’ sighed Cornwall, jumping of the tree stump. ‘I’m supposed to report back to the Leaders if I see any taskers, they forbid me to talk to you because they fear I might want to join you and try and get into London or Paris. I have heard so many stories about the life that the Leaders had before they were cast out. I couldn’t begin to imagine what an apartment or a computer looks like. One Leader said that food in London would make my taste buds burst with exhaustion because of the variety. It is my duty to stay here; otherwise my herd will die out.’ Cornwall said this with a dramatic air.
‘Why are you so important?’ Kayleb asked, holding the bucket’s handle a little tighter, Cornwall was obviously unstable and may run off with it at any moment.
‘Because I am able to breed and that makes me valuable.’
‘What do you mean breed? That’s so gross. Why don’t you use test tubes like everyone else?’ asked Rowan, quite revolted.
‘This is the wilderness, Rowan. There’s hardly going to be a labour factory around the corner, is there?’ Kayleb replied. ‘Like you said earlier, Cornwall was probably born naturally like me.’ Rowan looked at Kayleb in horror. The rumours were true then. This would account for Kayleb’s freakiness.
‘My mother wasn’t sterilised properly when she was cast out into the wilderness,’ said Cornwall. ‘My father was a tasker, like you, and we think he was AIDS-free. My mother has had twenty- two children. I’m the youngest. I have to do the same, have as many children as I can so that we don’t die out. When they catch you, they’ll put you in a stud pen so we can breed with you because you are likely to be pure.’
Rowan gasped.
‘Don’t worry though. They’ll hypno you so you won’t know what’s happening. Some of the stud pets prefer not to be hypnoed. They quite like it.’
‘Doing it like that will only spread that AIDS II virus,’ said Kayleb. ‘We went over to test tubes centuries ago because of AIDS II. This slowed down the disease and now there aren’t so many Londoners dying of the virus these days. I’m surprised your mother’s not died of it.’ Kayleb was good at Medicology.
Cornwall looked sadly down at her feet, tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. Kayleb now felt sorry for Cornwall; it was obvious that her mother had died.
‘My mentor, Helen, has got it,’ continued Kayleb, now a bit embarrassed that he had made Cornwall cry. ‘She was raped by a waster. My mother, I mean mentor, was born in the wilderness like yourself but managed to get through the terrorist shield that covers England and got into London. She gave birth to me on the steps of the Tate Modern. I hope she’s still alive when we get back because she’s getting weaker every day. I don’t think she’s got long to go until she goes to the Ashes Centre,’ said Kayleb sadly.
‘My mentor, Conrad, caught her and was supposed to throw her back out here. He took pity on her and they became friends. He managed to pull a few strings and now they cohabitate and Conrad became my mentor. He has a few good friends that helped Helen get her citizenship. I’ve been lucky and escaped infection. It’s a miracle that I am AIDS II free. They take my blood regularly to see if they can make an antidote for the disease.’
‘My mum was a lovely person, so warm and kind to everybody. She was forced to have us, it’s just not fair ... it’s not fair!’ Tears streamed down Cornwall’s face.
Rowan listened silently. He was having difficulty grasping so much suffering. His life had been cushioned and protected from abnormal behaviour. He had been born like most in the labour factory and at three years old, had been assigned to his mentors, Sarah and Dale, to act as his advisors and protectors. They had been good to him and his brother, Byron, and he respected them immensely. The wilderness was a brutal place, unforgiving and hostile. Rowan looked at Cornwall. This was no place for an innocent girl.
‘Have you got it, Cornwall? AIDS?’ Rowan asked. He was sorry for her. She was like a petal floating quietly on a millpond, in mortal peril, likely to be drawn down to the depths of its dark deep water at any moment.
‘I don’t know, do I? I don’t have any symptoms yet. They don’t care, the Leaders. They just lay down their plans to increase the herd as so many of us are dying of AIDS now. If you don’t do as they tell you then you just don’t get fed. It’s as simple as that.’
‘Well, in that case, you’ll have to come to London with us and we’ll help you get in. This is no life for you, Cornwall; you deserve much more,’ said Rowan, jumping to his feet. You can’t stay in this hole another day.’
Kayleb looked at Rowan aghast. He obviously didn’t know what he was dealing with.