The Stuff of Nightmares (21 page)

I could see it now, the five-sheet zenerth taking pride of place on the wall. And he stood below it, proud of its lines, its colours. This was a particularly unusual zenerth: some of the sheets were held in square and oval frames as well as circular. The largest sheet was forty centimetres square, and formed the base. This sheet, held taut in its wooden frame, was overlapped by a smaller oval frame, which in turn was anchored
between
two circular frames. Another large oval frame touched most of the others at some point and formed the top of the instrument. Hidden immediately beneath the four topmost sheets were metal strings of different lengths and stretched at different tensions. He took it down and started to play it, stroking and tapping first this sheet then that one, coaxing the low, sweetly sad music from the top four sheets and a low beat from the base until all the sheets filled the air with music and all I had to do was close my eyes for my mind to be filled with lights and colours in an eurhythmic pattern. Then he began to sing to me, accompanied by the zenerth, which he stroked and caressed. I was mesmerized.

‘Naima? Naima, are you all right?’

Dazed, I looked at Oliver. ‘Yes. Yes, I think so,’ I said, confused.

‘Come with me,’ he suggested. I stood and followed him to the fence which defined our prison. He sat down with his back against the fence and motioned for me to sit beside him.

‘Pete and Julia and Mindy Statson – in fact all of them here – are exactly the same.’ Oliver sighed, deep contempt in his voice. ‘Sometimes I wish I’d behaved slightly better or slightly worse when I was alive – anything so that I didn’t have to end up here. But you’re different. You’re not like them. Yet. I can see it in your face. You and me, we’re more alike – kindred spirits …’

‘Surely you and I are here because we
are
like them,’ I replied.

It didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on, and the Others beyond the oaks on the other side of the cemetery were probably exactly the same as us. We were two wings on the same bird. Oliver didn’t say anything. He just glared at the others milling aimlessly away from us.

‘I … I killed Baris,’ I admitted suddenly. ‘I … I murdered him. That’s why I died—’

‘Baris!’ Oliver said, aghast. ‘The colony leader’s first born?’

‘The one and only. I picked up his gun … and shot him dead …’

Oliver regarded me. I looked ahead, through the oak trees to where he might be watching me … even now. I could feel the curiosity burning through Oliver but he didn’t speak and I appreciated that.

‘He told me how the zenerths are made and then he took down a five-sheet zenerth he kept on the wall and started playing it for me.’ Still I didn’t look at Oliver, my eyes picking through the darkness past the trees. ‘You’re right, Oliver. The zenerths do make a very beautiful sound. And d’you know why? The sheets are our skin. The skin of us People … talented singers, poets, writers – anyone the Others feel will suit their purpose. The Others kill our artists and preserve their skin to make their instruments. It has something to do with the way those chosen for each zenerth are killed. Each set of People is carefully selected … They
have
to complement each other … And they have to be killed in a special way, so that their skin isn’t damaged.’ Without looking at him, I knew I had Oliver’s full attention. ‘Baris told me all about the process. He was proud of how clever the Others are. In fact he delighted in telling me how clever.’

At last I turned towards Oliver. He was staring at me, profoundly shocked.

‘I suppose I should be grateful,’ I said, close to tears. ‘I’m here, trapped in this cemetery, but independent still and with a mind of my own. My skin isn’t part of some musical instrument, waiting for the hand of one of the Others to bring me to life …’

I bowed my head, struck by the sad irony of what I’d just said, but then I dismissed my thoughts with a slow shake of my head.

‘I don’t understand,’ Oliver whispered. ‘How do they …? Where does this happen …?’

‘The best and most creative talents are always taken into the City to perform for the Others – we all know that. Only they aren’t allowed to perform as themselves – they are
transformed
. That’s the word Baris used – transformed. Once our musicians and artists are selected, we never see them again, and yet it’s still considered an honour to be chosen. Only top-ranking officials and a few involved in the manufacturing process for the Others know the truth. Our musicians and artists don’t live in ease in the City, the way we always thought; they’re killed for their skin; slaughtered to make music. Baris said their zenerths
are
traditional instruments, always made from the skins of their enemies.’

‘And that’s why you killed Baris?’ Oliver asked me quickly.

I bent my head. ‘Yes. When he started playing his zenerth for me, when he was so proud of it … something snapped inside me—’

Oliver didn’t wait to hear any more. He jumped up, calling everyone to him. His voice was loud, relentless. I scrambled to my feet.

‘Oliver, no. Please don’t tell …’

But Oliver looked straight through me. I doubt if he even heard what I said. What I’d told him had been for his ears alone, I didn’t want it shared, but I realized now that I had been mistaken in confiding in him. Helplessly I watched as he told everyone my secret. There was a hushed silence when he finished; some people stared past the oaks, but most stared at me.

‘Three cheers for Naima!’ Julia shouted. ‘Three cheers for the woman brave enough to kill the son-of-a-bitch!’

I clenched my fists behind my back as they cheered me, my nails digging deeply into my palms.

Was he over there, watching this?

Julia came over to me when the cheering had finished. ‘Did you get a chance to tell anyone else the truth about the zenerths? Any of us who are still alive?’

I shook my head. ‘The security guards found me kneeling over Baris’s body. They kept me there until
his
father arrived … and then his father … his father killed me … right there and then …’

I remembered his gun pointing at me. I remembered waiting for the blast to tear right through me. I heard the shot. Before the sound could even begin to fade, my whole world turned a blinding, searing white and my body became colder than blue ice. Colder than I’d ever thought possible. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in Payne’s Cemetery.

Julia frowned deeply. ‘We have to find some way of alerting those who are still alive to what’s going on. There must be some way out of here! We have to find it now, to warn them. It’s a shame you didn’t spread the word before they killed you too.’

‘A lot of our artists don’t go to the City to perform for the Others,’ I told her. ‘They hide where the Others will never find them. Our art won’t die out.’

‘No thanks to the Others,’ Julia retorted.

‘No thanks to the Others,’ I agreed.

I remembered the look of surprise on Baris’s face when I shot him. Surprise, then disbelief, then hatred. I hadn’t cared then. I hated him so much. I hated him for not understanding, for confirming that he was indeed one the Others and not different, not special as I had always thought …

Angry calls and whistles filled the night from our side of the cemetery.

‘You bastards …’

‘Scum …’

A line of People stood before the oaks, screaming at the Others. The Others were shouting back, just as angry, as filled with hate as we were. I walked over to stand in the middle of the crowd – and saw him, Baris, on the other side of the oaks. Even though I’d been looking out for him, to finally see him was still a shock. He was just as I remembered, tall, over six feet, with a broad forehead and thick eyebrows over intelligent eyes. He had such a strong face. I still remembered how I’d stared at him the first time I saw him. And he caught me staring and smiled, a smile which turned into a grin at my blushing confusion. Totally unlike the way he looked at me now, loathing burning in his eyes.

So he still hated me. I was glad. If he hadn’t hated me then I wouldn’t have seen him again. But then I saw it … and disbelief tore through me like the gun blast that had ripped into my body and ended my life. Baris had his zenerth slung across his body, his hands resting lightly but possessively on the instrument. His father must have buried him with it, Baris’s pride and joy. We stared at each other. Baris looked at his zenerth, then back at me, and his hands fell slowly to his sides.

‘Listen to me.
Listen to me!
’ I shouted. Gradually the cemetery quietened. ‘I killed Baris because he owned a zenerth, because he played it in front of me and was proud of it. And then his father killed me. I think Baris and I should finish what we started. A fight to the end, right here, right now. I won’t mind going to Hell if I know he’s there with me.’

‘I agree,’ Baris replied slowly, his low, deep voice rumbling through me the way it always did.

‘Naima, let me fight for you,’ Oliver demanded, stepping forward. From the abhorrence on his face I could see that Payne’s Cemetery was where he belonged, just as we all belonged here, whether we admitted it to ourselves or not.

‘No, Oliver. For once I’m going to fight my own battles. Baris is mine.’

‘Just as you belong to me,’ Baris replied. The hatred in his familiar voice rushed through me. I could see him so clearly; he could see me. For the first time we saw each other for what we truly were.

‘And where I’m going, I won’t need this any more,’ Baris added gravely.

We all watched as he walked towards the cemetery fence. He unstrapped the zenerth, looking down at it for several moments. I wondered what he was thinking. Once I would have said without hesitation that I knew. Suddenly he threw the instrument over the fence. It spun further and further away from us, spiralling into the darkness. I never saw or heard it hit the ground. My eyes were once again on Baris as he turned and walked back.

A silence of anticipation settled on both sides of the oaks. Baris moved forward until he stood just over his side of the line. I moved to stand opposite him. We were touching distance apart. He hadn’t changed at all. Strange, but somehow I had expected to see more of a difference in him.

I remembered all the times we had lain in bed after making love, just holding each other. He told me that he loved me, that we would go away … away from the colony, even though it was strictly forbidden for us People to travel without all kinds of permits. But there were ways, Baris assured me. We’d travel to another country where we’d both be accepted, where we’d find some happiness. He’d bribe whoever he had to, pay out any amount of money to get us away. It would take all the money he had, and once we were in a new country, life would be difficult: we’d both have to start again with nothing, but at least we’d be together; we’d have each other, Baris promised me – and that was all either of us cared about.

I’d packed my few belongings and gone to his house as I did each morning since I’d started working there as a housemaid two years before. Today was the day; it was all arranged. Baris had hired a car and we were going to drive across the country to a minor border crossing where he had already bribed the guards to let us through. It would take us over three days of hard driving to get there and any number of things could go wrong between now and then, but I refused to dwell on any of them. Baris and I were going to be free, and whether it was for a day or a lifetime, it’d be worth it.

Baris’s security guards let me through as usual, without checking my holdall. I finally made my way to Baris’s bedroom, avoiding more guards and Mrs Statson’s replacement, who was just as bad, if not
worse
, but I had snuck through the house to Baris’s room so many times before that I wasn’t anxious. Baris and I had been lovers for over a year now, a deep secret that neither of us dared reveal to anyone, otherwise we’d both be condemned and I’d probably ‘disappear’ one night, never to be seen again.

We sat down on the edge of his bed, his arm around me as we whispered about our future.

‘No second thoughts? No regrets?’ Baris asked.

‘None.’ I smiled. ‘What about you?’

‘None,’ he replied.

‘Did you get everything we need?’ I asked eagerly, knowing that even if he said no it wouldn’t really matter.

‘Most of it is in the car already, but take this,’ he said, picking up the gun from his bedside table and pushing it into my hands.

I recoiled from the weapon. ‘What’s this for?’

‘In case we run into any guards or police patrols on our way. I’ll have one as well, but it’ll be better if we’re both armed.’

‘Do I have to? I mean …’

Baris smiled, hugging me closer to him as he put the gun firmly into my hand. ‘Once we’re out of this country, there’ll be no need for guns, Naima. I promise.’

‘And no one will follow us?’

I wasn’t important enough to follow, but I was so afraid of Baris being pursued and brought back and punished. And I loved him too much to see any harm come to him.

‘By the time anyone thinks to come looking, we’ll be long gone.’

‘Yes, but what if your father decides to come home early?’ I worried. I couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. ‘Or what if—?’

But Baris just laughed. ‘You’re never happy unless you’ve got something to worry about. We’ll be fine. The car’s outside, the tank is full, I’ve got money and I love you. So what could go wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied, and we kissed, putting all the love and passion we felt for each other into every touch.

We took one final look around his room, the room where we had first been together. Then Baris saw his zenerth, high up on the wall. He smiled eagerly, telling of the nights when he would play for me while we travelled. I said it would be too dangerous to take it but he insisted.

‘I love this thing most in the world, followed by you!’ he teased.

Then he told me all about this strange musical instrument and I couldn’t understand how he could profess to love me and yet own such a thing. For the first time I saw him as he really was.