REN

* * * * * *

2005

 

 

IT TOOK ME twenty minutes to sprint home.

Ten minutes to zoom around the house, grabbing toothbrushes, clothes, towels, and food that would travel.

Five minutes to stuff the sleeping bag, tent, and every other belonging I could fit into my khaki and navy backpack, and another two to curse the zipper as it kept getting stuck on a sock shoved down the side.

My breathing was ragged and torn. My stomach knotted and coiled. My body covered in sweat from fear as well as exertion.

In the remaining eight minutes I had, I holstered every knife I owned down my boots, jeans, and back pockets, then jogged to the barn and opened the gate for Snowflake to leave her stall. She normally grazed in the field during the day, but now, I unlocked every fence and removed every obstacle, hoping she’d wander to a new home just like she’d done when she’d wandered into ours.

The chickens would survive without us. The house would still stand. The veggie patch would suffocate beneath weeds. And in a few short months, the farm would look just as abandoned as it had when we’d arrived.

I wished I’d had more time to steal thicker trousers and better jackets for us. I wished I’d thought up better travel arrangements and double checked the waterproofness of the tent.

I should’ve been more prepared for this.

I’d been stupid, and now, we were about to pay the price.

Gravel crunched as a car drove up the driveway for the first time in years. The house seemed to puff up in pride to accept visitors after so long of being cast out of society, hating me as I stood barring entry with my arms crossed on the front porch.

I forced my shallow breathing to become calm inhales. I clamped down on my jittery muscles and embraced ferocity instead of panic.

Panic that Della wouldn’t be with them.

Panic that she’d been taken already, and I’d never see her again.

The headmaster climbed from the vehicle first, followed by the waitress who turned to open the back door and help Della out.

My heart kick-started again, revealing that it hadn’t pumped properly since I’d left her forty-five minutes ago.

Such a short time but it had been a goddamn eternity.

Della wiped her running nose on the back of her hand, then spotted me and exploded into speed. She didn’t get far. The waitress grabbed her gently, whispering something in her ear.

My fists curled.

I held my temper…barely.

Another car rolled up behind the minivan the teacher had driven. This one was black with an official looking logo and tinted windows.

The two front doors opened and out stepped a severe looking woman who resembled a stick insect in a burgundy suit and a man with a beard trimmed so perfectly it looked painted on.

I’d started shaving a year ago and barely managed not to gorge my face apart with cheap stolen razors let alone create facial perfection like he had.

“Mr. Wild?” The two Social Service agents prowled toward me like predators. “Ren Wild?”

I nodded, crossing my arms tighter to prevent throwing my knives at them or doing something equally as stupid. “I want my sister.”

The man with his strange looking beard glanced at the waitress. “You can let her go. Thanks.”

“Okay.” She let Della go, and I held out my hand, begging her to come fast, come now, come quick.

Della saw my urgency, bolting up the steps and slamming against my leg. I wanted to bend down and tell her that she had to do everything exactly as I said, but we had an audience.

Instead, I smiled huge and fake. “Mum made you lemonade. It’s on the counter. Take a glass and go out back to the pond, okay? I’ll come play with you in a bit. The pond. Nowhere else, got it?”

Her face tilted to search mine, her eyes narrowed and uncertain.

Slowly, her confusion switched to enlightenment, and she nodded. “Okay, Ren. Pond. Got it.” She took off, leaping into the house and vanishing into his darkness of living rooms and staircases.

The two agents climbed the steps, pausing in front of me. “Can we come in? Where are your parents?”

I cocked my head like I’d seen actors do on TV. The ones who pretended they were innocent but had just committed mass murder. “I can’t let you in without their permission. Stranger danger and all. We’re raised with strict rules, you see.” I smirked as they looked at each other with annoyance. “But you can go and see them.”

“We were told they were at home,” the woman agent snipped. “Are you saying they’re—”

“I’m saying they’re behind you. In the barn.” I pointed at the A-frame, paint-peeling structure where until a few minutes ago Snowflake had called it home. “They’re milking our cow.”

“A cow?” the Beard asked.

I nodded. “We’re home grown here. Nothing but organic foods and good ole’-fashioned labour. That’s why Della knows so much about the circle of life and the food chain. Not because we have a bad upbringing, but because we’re not hidden from the truth.”

“Right.” The man nodded. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

I smiled just as fake as before. “I’m glad. Okay then, go talk to my parents. I’m going to play with my sister and pull some carrots up for dinner.”

The syrupy crap falling from my lips sickened me, but I’d dress up in smart clothes and quote the Bible if it meant they fell for my story and gave me time to keep Della safe.

The principal scowled but had nothing to say as the Social Service agents descended the stairs, crossed the driveway, and gave me one last look before disappearing into the barn.

The principal and his deputy followed.

I waved, animated and idiotic, cursing them under my breath as all four adults traded sunshine for shadows and vanished into the barn.

And that was when I made my move.

I flew down the porch steps, slammed the single wooden door closed, wedged the piece of wood I’d made with the simple hinge to lock them inside, then sprinted as fast as I’d ever sprinted before.

To the pond.

To my backpack.

To Della.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry, Ren.”

“How many times do I need to tell you? You don’t need to apologise.”

“But I ruined it.”

“You ruined nothing.”

“I did.” She dragged the stick she’d been playing with through the dirt as I built a fire from gathered twigs and logs. Her red uniform, frilly socks, and shiny black shoes were now bedraggled and forest worn. “I shouldn’t have said that about Frosty.”

“I don’t know who Frosty is, but you did nothing wrong.”

“I told them how to eat a rabbit.”

“And where is the harm in being honest?” I looked up, willing her guilt to stop beating her up. “Honesty is better than lying, Della. You know that.”

“I know but…I don’t think the kids liked being told how to gut a bunny.”

“I’m sure they didn’t. But that’s the point.” I broke more twigs into kindling. “It’s because parents teach their kids that meat comes in packets and not alive like them that’s the problem. Not you for pointing out the truth.”

“Is it wrong to kill?” She looked up with nerves dancing in her eyes. “Are we bad because we eat meat?”

I stopped what I was doing, giving her my full attention. “People have forgotten so much, Della Ribbon. They’ve forgotten that behind their supermarkets and houses, beneath their fancy dresses and suits, they’re still just animals. We’re not bad for eating meat because we only eat what we need and don’t waste. It’s everyone else who doesn’t appreciate the cost of things who are bad.”

I dropped my gaze as I used one of my four lighters—ever the resourceful—to start the fire I’d built.

Della had been subdued all evening from the moment I’d skidded to a stop beside her by the pond, hauled on my backpack, then took her hand and jogged until she couldn’t jog anymore, to now when all we could hear were crickets and insects, and our house had been replaced with a canopy of tree leaves.

I tried to hide my joy at being back where I belonged.

I tried not to smile or laugh in sheer pleasure at being away from cruel people and rotten societies.

I was happier than I’d been in a while, but Della was sad, and I didn’t want to make her feel worse by treating this as a celebration rather than a serious escape from potential separation.

She poked a leaf with her stick. “I thought you left me.”

“I promised I never would.”

“But you did leave me.”

“Only for forty-five minutes.”

She stuck her bottom lip out, pouting dramatically. “You still left me.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Okay, what can I do to make it up to you?”

She peered at me from beneath her brow. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, while you’re coming up with a suitable punishment, how about I put up the tent so we can go to bed?”

She nodded as if permitting me to do that one task but nothing else.

Despite our close call today, she was still the same opinionated five-year-old I cherished.

Traipsing through the soft undergrowth to where I’d propped my backpack against a huge tree, I unzipped it and began the process of yanking out almost every possession to get to the stuffed tent beneath. I also took out comfier clothes for Della. She’d no longer need her school uniform. Some animal could use it as a nest come winter.

As I shook out our shelter that hadn’t been used since our last two-night camping trip a few months ago, I did my best to visualise where we were.

We’d cut over the farm, following well-known tracks and clusters of trees thanks to previous exploring during the summer heat.

Ideally, we should start to make our way south so we could avoid the cold for as long as possible. I had my compass. We could follow the autumn sun.

Wherever we ended up for winter would remain a mystery until we got there.

At least, we’d escaped this time. For hours, we hadn’t stopped moving deeper and deeper into the treeline, and I’d pushed Della until she’d stumbled in exhaustion.

We weren’t far enough away, but she was too heavy to carry for long distances, especially with an overstuffed backpack already killing my spine.

I gambled we’d be safe here for a night or two. No one had yelled or chased, and we’d successfully traded fields for forest.

We were just two unknown kids that adults would rather forget existed than file paperwork and begin a manhunt for.

We were alone.

And I wished I cared more about what we’d just left behind.

I wished I had some sort of homesickness for Della’s sake, so I could understand how traumatic this sudden disappearance would be to her.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t dwell for a second on running from a house and saying goodbye to TVs and mattresses and couches.

All I felt was utmost relief and freedom to be back in a simple world where life grew all around me, creatures were safe to do their own thing, flowers and weeds grew side by side, and not one of them tried to trap or change us.

Once the tent was secured and our sleeping bag inside, I pulled out a few eggs that I’d wrapped carefully in our clothing and fried them on a rock warmed in the fire.

Della curled next to me as we ate, leaning against tree roots and watching grey smoke from our orange fire mingle with the black sky.

The taste was a thousand times better than anything cooked on a range. Smoky and earthy and seasoned by nature itself.

It wasn’t just food that tasted different away from town.

The colours were brighter, bolder.

The night sounds deeper, wilder.

My heart beat softer, calmer.

Della nuzzled into my side as I leaned back and wrapped my arm around her. I couldn’t give her language or history or math.

But I could give her perfect simplicity.

And a bedtime story or two.