Uniting Nations Chapter 1 (Sam)

Chapter 1

The town throbbed with activity, a steady rhythm of people Sam vaguely knew passing by him. He took a deep breath and stepped into the square, his friend Rob a few steps ahead of him.

"Nervous?" Rob asked.

Sam shook his head.

"I just can't wait to get out of here."

Rob chuckled and opened the door of Barnett's Breakfast cafe. The familiar aroma of muffins and bagels swirled around him. He could hear the crunch of bread breaking before Rob had even closed the door.

"I also can't wait to eat food that tastes as good as this smells," Sam murmured. He grinned at the thought of creamy cheese and crunchy bread.

"You know you probably won't, right?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and put his hand in his pocket. "How's that?"

"Why would they waste good food on a Loner, Sam? They'll give you food that tastes three times as bad as this cheap, imitation crap and save the real stuff for their own." Rob placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed. "But that's what you're going to change."

"Next please," called the woman at the counter, straining to see over the till. She shifted her weight onto one foot, then shifted it back.

Sam turned away from Rob and ordered a baguette with ham and cheese. He knew what he'd be getting, and he didn't appreciate the nine dollars he was being charged for it, but he also knew what was waiting for him on the other side of the wall, and most of it was a lot more sinister than decent cheese. If he ever wanted to make it there, he was going to have to store away every ounce of energy he could get from his breakfast.

Once they'd been seated and served, Sam rapped the table with his fingertips and turned to Rob. "Who is it we're going to see?"

"Sorry, buddy, can't tell you in here. Too public." Rob nibbled on the edge of a pancake and grimaced.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Rob."

He let the smell of his baguette wash over him and took a bite.

The disappointment wrapped around him and pressed him into a slump in his chair.

"Every time!" Sam groaned, "How do I keep forgetting it's so awful?"

Rob shrugged. "Smell is easier to manufacture than taste."

Suddenly Sam's cheese didn't look so creamy any more. He ate it anyway, as he did every other morning. He ate his ham too, because as vile as the food in Arklanshire was, it was nothing compared to the mulched herbs in the Wastelands.

"Come on." Rob yanked at Sam's sleeve then dumped the plate on a stack by the door.

"Wait!" The woman from the till was bumbling towards him. She searched his eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Only just recognized you. You're Gordon Jarnet's son, aren't you? The oldest one?"

Sam glanced at Rob, who shrugged and took a large step in the direction of the door.

"Um, yes I am," Sam replied. He scanned her face for a clue, anything that could hint at a memory of seeing her outside the cafe.

"This is for General Fulling." She passed him a small brown package, tied up with tight string and a lovely little bow.

"Er..."

"He'll understand." She clasped his hand in both of hers.

Sam's skin tingled and he wanted to pull away. He could feel the wrinkles of the woman's hands as she pressed the package into his palm. I didn’t think she was old. Rob had to be watching over Sam's shoulder. With luck, he would know what this was all about. He probably would. When didn't he?

"Uh, thank you." Sam withdrew his hand and the package from her grip and nodded. He turned to go.

"General Fulling, son, do not forget that name." The woman's voice wobbled. Sam smiled at her and gestured goodbye with the package. She raised a hand - to tell him off for waving it around? - but stepped back and nodded. He thought she whispered something else, but Rob was shoving him out the door before he had a chance to ask her to repeat herself.

The air was crisp and washed away all remnants of the cafe's aroma. Sam tucked the passage away in his pocket and hunched his shoulders.

"What was that all about?" Rob waved his hands in the air and looked at him with a piercing blue gaze. Sam wondered once again how an African-American boy ended up with such dazzling blue eyes.

"How should I know?" Sam shrugged and followed the lines made by the paving slabs.

"Um, maybe because she knew who you were and she gave you a present?" Rob caught Sam's chest with his fingertips and halted him. So Rob hadn't heard everything then.

"It wasn't for me," Sam muttered. He shrugged but couldn't rid himself of Rob's hand. "It was for some guy called General Fulling."

Rob's fingers tensed and Sam felt like he was being pressed up against a wall of spears.

"Say that name again," Rob breathed.

"Fulling...Why?" Sam took a step back but Rob was lowering his hand anyway.

"Oh..." Rob's muscles slumped and his eyes dropped to the ground. "I assumed Xander would direct her to me."

"Give what?" Who said anything about giving? Sam bent his head to peer into Rob's drooping face. "And who's Xander?"

Rob drew in a breath and pulled himself back up to full height. He slung his arm around Sam's neck and grinned.

"You're the chosen one, Sammy," he said, "It's all about you."

"I'm sorry?" Sam's eyebrows shot up. Chosen one? "I didn't mean to be arrogant, if that's what you mean. You know, acting like I'm special."

"Nah, buddy," said Rob, "I'm just kidding. Come on, I think it's time for you to meet someone very important."

Rob led Sam around the town, over a couple of bridges when they got near the stream, taking so many twists and turns that Sam began to think Rob was mocking his hopeless sense of direction. When eventually they did stop, they faced a rectangular brick building, with less distinguishable features than the dusty ground it sat on.

Of all the places Sam had expecting Rob's winding route to take them, this had not even been on his list.

He peered round at Rob. "Why are we at Georgia's old school? On a Saturday?"

Rob heaved at the gate and it stubbornly creaked open. He waited until they had slipped inside the school grounds to reply.

"Sam, have you ever tried to get into the quadrangle in the middle of the school?" Rob asked. He jogged across the patch of grass and sprang up the steps to the school in a single leap. Sam scurried over to him.

"No, of course not," Sam replied. He leaned on the left side of the doorway as Rob slid something into the lock. "I've been in here twice for Georgia's parents' night when my mum and dad had to work and everyone knows the quadrangle's off limits anyway. Speaking of which, what are you doing?"

Rob grinned and eased the door open.

"I, Sammy boy-"

"Oh, never mind," said Sam. He trudged through the doorway and muttered, "Probably better not to ask."

Sam heard a bolt being dragged shut, then a moment later the angry bark of a match being struck. Rob's face appeared in the darkness, lit up from underneath like he was about to tell a spooky story.

"Couldn't you have brought a lamp or something?" Sam took the matchbox Rob was offering to him and struck his own. "This'll be eating our fingertips in seconds."

"Relax," Rob whispered, "I've got some candles. Hold this."

Sam grunted as Rob's massive rucksack was dropped into his arms. The candle in his hand wavered, but recovered. A moment later Rob gasped in triumph and set himself to lighting two long, skinny candles. He set them on the floor, their flames warm and bright, and fumbled for the rucksack.

"Here." Sam lifted the bag into his arms and bent down to retrieve the candles before Rob's constant shuffling around knocked one of them over. The matches had gone out barely a second after the candles had been lit, but were still hot to the touch.

Rob took a candle and immediately started walking through the school's front hall. Sam stuffed the matches in his pocket and drew level with him. He didn't understand why Rob always had to move so fast, or talk so fast.

"Don't you ever wonder why the quadrangle's off limits?" Rob asked. He didn't even look round.

"No," said Sam, "Remember what happened the last time I asked a question like that?"

"Oh," Rob murmured, "Sorry, buddy."

"No need, just don't bring it up every other day." Sam hunched his shoulders and stared straight ahead.

"Hey." Rob caught Sam's shoulder. "You okay?"

Sam wavered, but replied, "Aye, whatever. Let's just go."

Rob shrugged and led him round a corner. Sam's candle had burnt down almost halfway already. He tilted forward and lengthened his strides, winking at Rob and daring him to keep up.

"Race you to the quadrangle!" Rob shouted. He darted forward and had passed Sam in moments.

Sam grinned to himself. No way was Rob beating him at running of all things. His feet propelled him along the dusty wooden floorboards, guiding him effortlessly round a corner and past Rob. His arm nicked Rob's shoulder as he flew by and he stumbled forward.

There was no greater thrill in the world than regaining his balance mid-stride and leaping forward like a crazed ballerina.

He turned round to grin at Rob, and immediately regretted it. With an almighty whoosh, he thudded into something soft, almost squishy, like being whacked in the face with a couch cushion, and bounced backwards. He managed to regain his balance, but only by stumbling around clumsily and waving his arms like he was fighting off an imaginary swarm of bees.

"Mr. Jarnet?" asked a clipped, irritable voice.

Sam gasped and slowly turned around to face its source.

"Mrs. Kyseth." He nodded and clasped his hands together. She was readjusting her blouse, which was creased where Sam had rammed into it. He tried to keep his eyes off her chest, but the image of being suffocated by couch cushions wouldn't leave his mind.

She narrowed her bushy eyebrows at him. "What is the meaning of this, Samael?"

Now that he had straightened up, Sam towered as far above her as he did above anyone else. Somehow, he still felt like a gnome in her presence. He glanced at Rob, whose wide open eyes and minute shake of the head said only one thing: shut up. Sam grimaced. There was only one conceivable reason why he'd be in an all-girls’ school his sister didn't even attend, on a Saturday at that.

He drew in a breath. "I was hoping you might reconsider lowering Georgia's fees for secondary education. I don't understand why the Queen will pay for a boy's education and not for Georgia's!"

She touched her forehead with her fingertips and sighed.

"Sam, will you never learn your lesson?" She moved her hand to her side and her eyes looked genuinely pained. "Please stop this. If Mrs. Hilder hears you talking like this again ... I don't even want to think about what she'll do. Georgia's a lovely girl. I don't want any harm to come to her."

Sam nodded, pretending to accept what he'd known was true for months. Ever since Mr. Hilder, an important sergeant in the army or something, had beaten him senseless, he had learned that asking questions about unchangeable matters was far more trouble than it was worth.

Mrs Kyseth looked past Sam and her gaze settled on Rob, who was doing his best to hide the flame of his candle.

"And what are you doing here, Mr. Ghezali?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

Rob pointed vaguely in Sam's direction. "He wanted moral support."

Sometimes it worried Sam how quickly and easily Rob could lie.

"Well, gentlemen," said Mrs. Kyseth, "I have what I came for-" she held up a stack of essays "- hopefully you too are done here. Shall we go?"

Sam pictured strolling out the front door of the school into the sunlight and gasped. Whatever Rob had opened the door with, it had not been a key. For whatever reason, Mrs. Kyseth hadn't noticed yet, but she would for certain if they held the door open for her.

"Actually," Rob interjected, "We're going out the side way. There's something I wanted to look up in the library a couple of streets over."

Rob strode past Mrs Kyseth and grabbed Sam's sleeve, dragging him away.

"Wait," she shouted, "How did you get in here? And how did you know I'd be here?"

"Uh, the janitor told me," Rob called over his shoulder, "And he let us in!"

Thankfully, Mrs. Kyseth either believed them, or didn't care. With Rob's reputation encircling him like a bubble of radioactive energy, she probably just didn't want to know.

"Come on," Rob hissed. He extinguished their candles and yanked Sam by the wrist round a procession of corners. Now caged in by darkness, Sam felt sure he was going to slam into a harsh brick wall every time he took a step. Rob kept muttering at him to hurry up. Maybe he would run into a wall instead.

Finally Rob grabbed Sam by his broad shoulders and pulled him to a stop, which was actually quite impressive, since Rob could barely even reach his shoulders at all.

"We're here," Rob whispered, as if Sam hadn't already guessed that.

He put something in the keyhole again and a moment later had eased the door delicately open. Sam passed through the door without questions.

A bar of dim light lay across the center of the room, falling on a shabby wooden chair and glinting off the dust on the floor. Sam screwed up his eyes but what was hidden by the darkness remained a mystery. He paced forward into the gloom, a deep breath accompanying his every step.

"Robert?" called a voice, "Robert Ghezali?"

Rob frowned.

"Xander...?"

He leaned forward into the darkness, his eyebrows knitted together.

A shimmering form dissolved into view near the edge of the darkness. A woman stepped forward, the stream of light lying along her stomach.

"Actually," she said. Her voice cracked like sixteenth-century pottery. "My name is Alexandra. Funny, eh, four hundred years since women got the vote and people still feel the distance between man and woman like the difference between badger and owl."

Sam gaped at her stray locks of greying hair. He'd seen them already today, at breakfast. She was the woman who had served him his stale baguette and plastic cheese. Never mind what she was doing there, how had she got there so fast? He closed his mouth and turned to face Rob.

"You've been writing to her?" he asked. He turned to face Rob and raised both eyebrows.

"Apparently." Rob frowned. He held his elbow with his opposite hand, scratching at a scab he'd got when he'd dropped the water carrier on his way home a couple of days ago. Obviously this wasn’t the sort of person he’d envisioned.

"Sit, sit," the woman, Alexandra urged.

Sam's eyes darted to the chair, varnish hanging off its legs in flaps. He raised his eyebrow at her.

She shook her head and gestured toward a dull but recognizably orange bench in the corner. Sam frowned but obeyed. The cool steel caused him to gasp as he sat down. Rob sat beside him, and the woman pulled up the chair. Sam winced as she sat down but she seemed to be okay.

"What kind of quadrangle is this?" Sam asked, struggling to keep an edge out of his voice.

"Glad you're finally asking questions," Alexandra grinned.

Sam groaned and faced away from Rob.

"Ask another," she said.

"Fine." Sam clenched his jaw and slitted his eyes. "What is your actual name?"

"Alexandra, technically," she said, then she smiled at Rob and added, "But you can call me Xander. Rob has been calling me Xander for weeks."

Rob squirmed and didn't face her.

"Aw, look at the boy!" Xander giggled and bit her lip. "All upset because his big important fancy contact turned out to be an old woman with grey hair."

Rob lifted his head and held her gaze. "Please will you just explain to Sam how he is going to get over the wall?"

Xander rolled her eyes. "I wanted him to ask, you idiot. That's the whole point, right?"

Rob shot to his feet and slapped his thighs. "No, the point is to get Sam over the border and get this bloody mission underway once and for all!"

"Fine. Fine, fine, fine," Xander muttered. She gestured for him to sit; he frowned, clenching his jaw and fists, but obeyed. "Samael Jarnet, your friend Rob has told me of your passion."

Sam gulped and let his gaze drift around Xander's feet. "My passion?"

"For the cause, boy." Xander smiled and leaned forward. "Rob says you're the one who's going to fix all our problems."

Sam felt the blood rush to the tips of his ears and he glared at Rob. "Um..."

The strip of light that fell across the middle of the room wavered and something in the corner of the room glinted. Sam peered into the muffled darkness, letting his curiosity distract him from the pressure inside his skull. It was like his brain was trying to squeeze out an answer to Xander's last remark. He was fairly certain it wasn't going to find anything.

He stood from his seat, his gaze hovering about a meter above Xander's head.

"Sam?" Rob asked.

"Sam," she said, "Sit down."

Sam shook his head and kept walking. He passed the strip of light and winced as it caught his eyes. His toe caught something soft, but it was enough of a shock to knock him off balance. He waved his arms in circles, sure that Rob would be laughing at him, but flew forward and landed on his knees.

"What the hell?" he muttered. He looked round behind him but all he could see were Rob's boots stomping towards him.

He felt around the floor behind him until his hand brushed on something soft, then pulled at it and managed to drag it about half a foot towards him. It was almost furry to the touch and whenever he ran his hand away from his body, he could feel its fibers brush up, like he was patting a dog the wrong way round. He ran his hand back towards himself, and the fibers flattened.

"What is this?" he asked, wishing Rob hadn't extinguished his candle.

"How am I supposed to know?" Rob's voice came from above him, a long way above him in fact.

Sam stood and towered over Rob.

"Maybe because you seem to know everything about everything else," Sam hissed. He crossed his arms and kicked at the soft, deceptively heavy, block at his feet. Wondering if the object that had first caught his eye was still glinting, he turned around.

"There's nothing over there, Sam," Rob said, "Just darkness."

"I can see that," Sam muttered. He swiveled back around and tried to find Xander in the murk. "What the hell kind of quadrangle is indoors anyway?"

"What sort of school doesn't let its pupils into its quadrangle?" she asked, from about a meter to his right.

Sam jumped.

"Jeez, you're quiet..."

"I have to be," Xander said.

Sam resisted the urge to growl at her. Well, at least Rob was as clueless as he was. That made a change.

"Sam, I need to know that you are as passionate as Rob suggests," said Xander, "I need to know why you think Lone should be united with BA?"

Sam gasped and stared straight at Rob.

"Oh my God," he whispered, "Oh my God! How could you just tell someone something like that? Who else have you told? Mrs. Kyseth? Mr. Hilder? The woman who cuts your hair?"

"I had to tell her," Rob hissed.

"Why?"

"You'll find out," said Rob. Sam could have punched him square in the jaw.

He turned to face Xander. "Lone is going to die. That is indisputable fact. The King seems to think he can save us all or whatever. You know, just conserve your resources. I know that he's up to something. He has to be. Nobody can be that fat while conserving anything."

Rob chuckled. Sam counted to five under his breath.

"The only way to save Lone is to share resources with BA. The only way to do that is to convince them we're not all diseased little maggots." Sam held Xander's gaze and sighed. "Obviously that's where it gets a bit more complicated."

Xander reached a hand up to Sam's shoulder; he stooped a little to let her.

"Well, I wouldn't say passion as such," she said, "Pain, certainly."

Sam nodded, his eyes tingling. He thought of Georgia, who could have gone to whatever school she liked had she been born twenty miles east. He pictured his brothers, who could have achieved so much. As it was, they were doomed to a life of conservation and industrial production, though Sam did have a sneaking suspicion Declan was destined for life on a farm, rather than the steel mills.

"Thank you, Robert," Xander continued, "You have chosen well."

Rob clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Told you."

"What else did you tell her?" Sam muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" asked Rob.

"Nothing."