Whispers - The Fortress Series Book 1: A post apocalyptic dystopia Read online

  Whispers

  The Fortress Series Book I

  Isabelle D Boutin

  Copyright © 2020 Isabelle D Boutin

  All rights reserved

  ISBN : 978-2-9819094-4-2

  Dépôt légal Bibliothèque et Archives du Québec

  3e trimestre 2020

  Translated from French

  Proofreader: Lottie Fyfe

  To my parents, Thank you for your never-ending support.

  Chapter 1

  Ifa woke with a start, her nightgown stuck to her clammy skin. She sat down gently on her mattress and tried to calm her beating heart. She dreamed frequently but never remembered her dreams. She took a deep breath and climbed down the ladder attached to her bed. The floor creaked under her bare feet as they touched it. The room was dark, the curtains drawn tight, but a faint light filtered through them. A soft, steady breath came from the bed at the foot of the ladder. Her grandfather was still sleeping. He was usually the first to get up and seeing him asleep brought a loving smile to her face. She put pants and a sleeveless sweater on and went outside, drawing the curtain and quickly closing it behind her.

  In the common area, her neighbour Janis was feeding her youngest child. She greeted Ifa with a brief smile and resumed her unsuccessful attempts. Little Sory was always reluctant to eat her morning mush.

  “There’s hot water on the stove if you want some”, Janis whispered to her.

  “Thank you”, Ifa replied.

  She helped herself to a cup of hot water, unhooked some herbs from above the stove and dropped them into the steaming liquid. She sat down at the table facing Sory and smiled at her.

  “Eat, my love, then you can go and play”, she said, pointing to the door.

  Janis’ two oldest children were already outside – Ifa could hear them talking in the alley. Sory’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth gently for her mother. A few bites later, she disappeared to the door to join her brother and sister.

  “You’re good with her”, Janis told her. “She’ll do anything you ask!”

  “We love each other very much”, she and I, replied Ifa, her nose in her cup.

  The heat from the cup almost burned her hands and cheered her up a little. She hated waking up sweaty from a bad dream. When it happened, she always felt uncomfortable for a few hours. Her warm drink helped her to keep grounded in the present moment.

  A few images of her dream were floating in her head. She was walking in a dry forest in the wake of an unknown man. She remembered seeing flowing water, a river or stream of some kind. She shivered. The only river she knew was the one that bordered the City and its waters looked more like a pool of mud than the clear liquid she had seen in her dreams.

  She was brought out of her thoughts by a loud voice from the alleyway and then by the disturbing silence that followed it. The children went quiet. A shadow appeared in the frame of the door.

  “What a good morning, isn’t it?” Tamer cried out in his thunderous voice as he rushed in the common area.

  Janis and Ifa looked at him without reacting. The man used to appear unexpectedly at Ifa and her grandfather’s house. Tamer was a guard from the Fortress and was mainly concerned with keeping the City safe. Almost all the citizens hated him. Arrogant and intolerant, he terrorized everyone by constantly watching them and threatening to report their actions to the Council.

  For some time, he had set his mind on Soroban, Ifa’s grandfather, and visited him almost every day.

  “Soroban is still sleeping,” Ifa warned him as she saw Tamer approaching their room.

  He gratified her with a petty smile that seemed to say “So what?” and drew the curtains, shouting.

  “Get up in there! Early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise!”

  Ifa clenched her teeth. Her nostrils fluttered with indignation. She pushed her chair back noisily, grabbed her shoes by the door and went outside chewing her lips.

  *

  Titus stood motionless in the square, eyes closed, his face turned to the wind. He had always loved and envied the wind, which could travel for miles, always with the same ardour. He took a few seconds to appreciate the soft sensation of the breeze on his burned skin as he watched the sun shining timidly under the thick cloud cover. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and remembered his morning meeting. The exchange with his client had gone well. The latter, satisfied with Titus’s find, had rewarded him well with provisions and a small object well wrapped in a piece of filthy cloth. He brushed the package in his pocket and rubbed his thumb against the sharp tip of the blade. A knife. It was very rare to get your hands on sharp knives – every citizen jealously guarded any potential tool or weapon.

  Titus was grateful to his client for taking the trouble to conceal it from prying eyes that might have witnessed the exchange. For indeed, throughout their discussion, Titus had noticed a well-known haughty figure at the other end of the square. Far from hiding it, Tamer always watched him. The guard usually closed his eyes to the bartering of goods in the City, but he always kept an eye on Titus as he moved about. Tamer had warned him that a word from him would be enough to force him into the Fortress. He had no reason to denounce him for the time being—fortunately—he was content to keep an eye on him, to remind him of his fragile posture.

  Titus set off again and rushed into the street at the end of the square to go home. The wind had completely disappeared now that he had taken refuge behind the walls, or rather what was left of them. The area was in an advanced state of disrepair, debris from a past that no longer existed. The city must have been magnificent once, Titus thought as he looked at the stones that stood before him. He liked to let himself dream about that past. He imaged his neighbourhood with its colourful houses and clean, unspoiled windows. He could see the river and its clear, drinkable water, which above all was full of fish. He smiled at the idea. He had never seen any, except in pictures in an old book from his childhood. He wondered if, in the distance, in other bodies of water, fish still existed.

  “Someday I will go,” he thought. “I’m convinced there’s a better life out there somewhere.”

  Lost in his thoughts, he had finally reached his house. A myriad of noises and smells was reaching him from within. People had had time to wake up and start their day during his morning excursion. He lifted a corner of the canvas that served as a door and entered the occupants’ common space. The old houses had been turned into dwellings, called rooms. The size of the rooms varied according to the number of people living in them. Titus’s tiny room suited him because he could easily lie down in it and store the few things that belonged to him. Above his bed, a few old nails supported his clothes and his half-timbered hat, which he always forgot when he went out. A brown plastic crate was used to store tools. A few utensils and an iron bowl completed the set. On the crate was an oil lamp, dried out. He almost never used it, preferring to spend his evenings with others. Most of the people who lived alone also frequented the common space for eating or socializing. Fires were not lit in the rooms, especially in the summer, as they were suffocating.

  Raina was busy at the fire, as she usually was every morning. She was good at using leftovers, gathering scraps of vegetables and other foods to make soup and helping people in the area. With food rationing becoming more and more frequent, many citizens were struggling to feed their families. Raina’s soup helped them. In exchange, some brought her leftovers so that she could cook for them, others provided her with services or offered her objects.

  “Good morning, my dear!” Raina said, rushing towards Titus. She rubbed her hands on her apron and smiled as she touched his cheek.

  “I can’t help worrying when you go out that early in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry, Raina, I’m taking every necessary precaution.”

  Raina was Titus’s room neighbour. She could have been his grandmother, and she always acted a little bit like it. For him, who had been alone since childhood, Raina had become his only family. Long white strands of hair were coming out of her bun and falling in front of her eyes. She blew them away, but to no avail.

  “Let me help you,” Titus said. He put a rebellious strand back into her bun and asked her how she was.

  “Oh, I’m well, very well. I had a good night’s sleep despite the heat. But it’s you that interests me. How did it go this morning?”

  She went back to her cauldron to watch the cooking.

  “It went very well. By the way, I brought you a present.”

  He handed her a glass jar with vegetable peelings in it.

  “However, I ran into Tamer again.”

  “He’ll never leave you alone, you know that.”

  “Yes, I know,” Titus answered with a sigh.

  Titus knew it all too well, but he hated to worry Raina and preferred not to give her too many details so as not to torment her.

  “He was there, but as usual he didn’t say a word. He was just observing me.”

  Raina raised her eyes from her cauldron to look straight at him. She seemed to be about to reply when the canvas lifted at the far end of the common space. Surprised, she welcomed the newcomer with joy.

  “Ifa! To what do we owe your visit so soon?” she asked.

  “Tamer came by, so I thought I’d better go out in the meantime.”

  She didn’t need to say mo
re. As much as Tamer kept track of Titus’s whereabouts, he never left Soroban alone either.

  “Ah, how about that? He’s paid you a nice visit too?” Titus asked.

  Ifa turned to him, surprised.

  “What, he came here?”

  “No... I met him on the streets. He’s watching me again.”

  “And he accosted you?”

  “No, he watches me from a distance, but he’s not hiding it.”

  What else could he say? Titus’s profession had chosen him in spite of himself, because he showed little disposition for physical exertion. However, he excelled at building relationships with others. This gift had led him from an early age to exchange all sorts of things in order to survive. Few occupations were suitable for the Council, which ruled over the Fortress and the City. Repairing, making, building – that was the kind of work that was valued. Bartering, smuggling, and dealing with other citizens were highly inadmissible under the rules. However, most of the guards turned a blind eye to these activities. Tamer, no. The guard, a vindictive and insatiable man, reminded anyone that he had the power to enforce the law. For years, he’d been focusing on Titus, and no one knew why.

  “At our home, he doesn’t just observe,” Ifa continued. “He hardly bothered to announce himself before entering. He appeared in the house and before I could even speak, he was already drawing the curtains and plucking Grandpa out of his bed with his big, proud greetings. He has no respect for elders!”

  She shook her head and swallowed her saliva.

  Raina approached and grabbed her shoulders.

  “My dear child. Soroban is stronger than you think. Even though you see his physical strength diminishing day by day, his mind remains clear and his intelligence surpasses Tamer’s. He’s not afraid of him, don’t you be.”

  Ifa nodded and wiped away the tears that had appeared in the corner of her eyes. Raina rummaged under the table and pulled out a glass container.

  “Take this, and bring it to him from me. Tamer must have left by now.”

  Ifa bowed her head to look at the jar Raina was handing to her. Broken cookies—a specialty Raina made from cricket flour—piled up in the bottom.

  “Thank you, Raina. He’ll be delighted. I’ll see you soon.”

  Ifa waved a hand to Titus and Raina before she left.

  *

  No sooner had the canvas closed behind her than Ifa stopped for a few moments. Visiting Titus and Raina always invigorated her. She doubted that Tamer had already left. She had noticed that the interval between his visits was getting shorter, and each time he stayed longer. She took a deep breath and blew as she counted the seconds. “1, 2, 3 … 17, 18, 19, 20, let’s go.” Ifa looked down at her hands – they had finally calmed down and stopped shaking. She smiled as she looked at the container Raina had given her. Soroban loved these cookies.

  She set out down the street to return home. The City spread out in a narrow strip crushed between the cliff and the dry river. At times, the water rose and you could see some flow in it. Most of the time, it was just a muddy puddle, which you could cross on foot if you were not afraid of getting stuck. Nobody would go in there. The other side seemed even more deserted than theirs. Sometimes children would challenge each other to cross and bet on who could go furthest. Ifa had never seen anyone make it through the mud and onto the rocks that could be seen far away on the opposite bank.

  As she walked, she reached the edge of the City: a wall less than one metre high that defined the City limits. Leaning over, one could see the sand that had formed the riverbed several metres below. People said that water used to flow up to the wall. They said that big boats used to dock there with thousands of people on board who came here to take their vacations. It was Soroban who told her most of these stories that he had learned from a diary written by an ancestor. This diary had been passed down from hand to hand for generations. It contained incredible accounts of life during that time. This life seemed impossible today; straight out of a children’s story.

  Ifa sighed, looking into the distance. She had never been outside the city. She had never even dared to take part in the famous challenge of the crossing with people her age. She was afraid of what might be hiding in the muddy water. She was afraid that she would never be able to return. The children made fun of her at the time, saying that she was afraid of everything. Instead of daring, she had always preferred to stay with Soroban, especially since her mother had died. Ifa kicked a stone near her foot and resumed her walk to their room. She preferred not to think about her mother too much.

  Ifa and Soroban lived in one of the smallest dwellings in the City and had a family of two mothers and three children living next door. Ifa liked to spend time with them. She often looked after the children while their parents worked in the common area or at their posting. Josette, her neighbour, was away a lot. Her work as a courier for the Council required her to explore the area in search of resources, leaving Janis and the children behind. Josette had returned the day before, to everyone’s great joy and relief. She had been gone for several weeks and they were beginning to fear that she would not return. The job of courier was the most dangerous of all – some of them never returned from their expedition.

  Access to their home was through a dark alleyway paved with uneven stones, confined between the buildings and the cliff. Ifa looked up to the sky, but could see nothing but the opaque white clouds and a few twigs that dotted the rock surface. Sometimes a guard sat at the top of the wall, his legs hanging down in the air. This thought gave Ifa chills. She hated it. She was always afraid that one of them would fall and she would find his body, crushed in the alley.

  Their house stood out from the others because it had a door. Soroban had made a wooden plank on wheels that could be slid in front of the doorway, and that protected from the weather better than a canvas. The Council forbade the installation of any form of lock or bolt, but at least privacy could be simulated by closing the door. The door remained open throughout the warm season, however, to avoid suffocation from the heat. Their home was divided into three sections: the common area on the right near the entrance; Josette and Janis’s room, which occupied the entire left side, filled with all sorts of things Josette had brought back from her expeditions, including several toys for the children. Finally, long canvases isolated Soroban and Ifa’s room at the far end.

  Janis was still sitting at the table and crushing nuts with a mortar. She raised her head when Ifa entered. Ifa greeted her and glanced at her room at the far end, the canvases completely closed.

  “Is Tamer still there?”

  “No. He left a few minutes ago, but I haven’t seen your grandfather. He didn’t come out to show him out.”

  That surprised Ifa. Soroban invariably escorted visitors back to the gate, even the inconvenient ones like Tamer. Ifa thanked Janis and went to the back to find her grandfather. Lifting the canvas, she found him sitting at his work table. Their room contained an impressive number of objects and furniture. Their beds were bunked, which left enough space for a desk on which Soroban sometimes wrote, but also a large table with tools on top, at which Soroban was sitting at the moment. He was leaning his head over a sheet of paper, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “I am back,” said Ifa, trying not to startle him.

  “Hello, Ifa. Did you have a nice walk?”

  Ifa nodded yes and took a chair to sit next to him, the tension rising in her body.

  “What did he want this morning?”

  Soroban turned towards her and took off his glasses. He seemed tired and Ifa’s stomach contracted as she looked at him. He had a serious look that didn’t bode well. He touched Ifa’s hands, which were resting on her thighs, and plunged his eyes into hers.

  “Ifa, we must talk seriously.”

  Chapter 2

  That tiny little sentence generated a shot of adrenaline throughout Ifa’s body. Her heart leapt into her chest. She swallowed with difficulty; a lump in her throat. She could see that he was looking for his words, unsure where to start. She looked at him as she waited for him to speak again. Without his glasses, he looked comical, almost childish. Today, youth had disappeared from his face because of his drawn features and sad eyes. Soroban was now sixty-two years old. His hair, once a beautiful curly golden mane, was now sparse and in great need of a cut. A few curls hung on his forehead, wet with sweat.