The Red Lady

Black knee-high boots awoke the dust as they cut through the raucous hoards swarming Giya Market. Many already seemed to be at each other's throats, some stealing day old fruit from the back tables, others knives drawn, demanding the goods they had been promised. Saturday was payment day for many of the colonies - now meaning a day one pays their debts, rather than gains anything of value for themselves. Meandering through the square, Cora was in no mood to be sold to today. She was in search of very specific goods and this was her hunting ground. Greedily she scanned the stalls, finally settling on a familiar weathered face. Noah, a resourceful local who always seemed to have just what she needed - before she herself knew what she was looking for. He saw her coming. As their eyes locked he looked at her with cocktail of annoyance and begrudging affection. A smirk formed on Cora's lips.

Narrowly dodging a punch coming for a man behind her, she swung around and slammed her hands on Noah's table.

'Screwdriver', she grinned.

'Nope, no, I don't…' he started

'...aw c'mon Ark, I know you got one!'

'I don't have any in, I swear,' he protested, his eyes avoiding her gaze, 'Well, none that you could afford anyway…'

'...then sell one to me cheaper.' She challenged, 'You know I'm good to you, I'm so good, I bring you great stuff!'

'You can't afford it! Just save up and come back next week Cora.'

'Nah, I can't Ark, I'm here for it now, just…give me a price.'

Sighing, he paused, 'Why you need it so badly, hmm?'

This made her stop, her eyes changing, 'My boat. I got raided. I didn't have anything, so they trashed the wheel in case they wanted to pay me another visit. Now I can't move.'

Noah finally met her gaze. He wasn't used to seeing her this vulnerable.

'Okay, fine. What have you got for it?'

'…Apples'.

'Apples!?'

'Yeah, two!'

'That's not enough Cora, c'mon, don't make me be that person! You know I hate saying no to you…'

'Then don't!' Cora hit back, 'Don't be that person! Apples are good, they're fresh…come on…how long has it been since you've eaten a nice crisp apple huh!? Or two for that matter?'

'No, look…I can't, okay? It's just not enough, you know how things are getting.'

Stalemate.

Cora inhaled deeply. Disappointingly she shrugged, 'Okay. Thanks Noah.'

Cora turned and began walking back through the square, but something in her stomach burned, slowing her to a halt. She knew she needed that screwdriver, more than anything she had needed from him before. She almost didn't want to do it, but her hand had already slipped into her pocket, retrieving something curved and blue. Very slowly, she held it up and out above the side of her head. Noah spotted this immediately and as she flicked the object open, his hopes were confirmed: an old flip phone. Cora moved her thumb over the keypad and pressed down on one of the buttons. As a selection of ringtones began to echo through the square, a deathly silence fell over the crowds. He couldn't believe it. Music! It wasn't a fair trade. Cora could feel the electricity in the air, the tension building. Confidently she turned and met Noah's gaze, a daring smile on her lips. Smoothly she approached his table once more and leaned closer to him, raising her eyebrows.

'So?'

Hurriedly he nodded, unable to formulate a verbal response. Grinning even more, Cora slammed the phone shut, silencing the music and threw it at him, grabbing the screwdriver. Hungrily scanning for a few more gems, she quickly settled on an antique brass porthole frame, strapping it to her belt buckle with some loose wiring from his stall. Reaching under the table, she found Noah's bottle of whiskey strapped to the underside and pulled it out, never taking her gaze off his, filling up her own hip flask, re-screwing the top back on with her teeth. Taking a final swig from his bottle, she handed it to him and strutted out of the market. As she reached the exit, she turned back to him, biting into her apple and giving him a wink before disappearing behind piles of coloured fabrics. Noah rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head in awe, trying to suppress a fond, knowing smile.

***

And there she was. Home - the Red Lady, a small, old cargo ship she had been lucky enough to come across two years prior when she had been combing the beaches, gathering anything valuable that may have washed up for her to sell. She had camped out all night in a nearby cave, keeping a close watch on the vessel and its inhabitants. Or lack there of. Once she was sure no one was aboard, she took an old head torch from her backpack and searched every corner. If she wanted to keep it, she would have to claim it as her own by the morning and proceeded to set sail back around the bay, close to an area of land she knew well. She had friends here, they would keep a lookout for her. After securing various lengths of found-rope to the pilings, she climbed down into the hull and, curling up in a ball of blankets, she sunk into the best nights sleep she’d had in years.

***

Wanting to get out of the sweltering sun, she finished up tightening the last screw and stood back to admire her handy work. Testing how secure and moveable this newly crafted wheel was, she praised herself for taking the frame and other goodies from Noah's stall. She was getting pretty good at this. Spinning the tool between her fingers she thought now would be a good time to get some rest. She made sure the ropes were still secure and made her way down into the cool, damp hull of the ship. Her own little escape. Shutting the trap door behind her, plunging herself into darkness, she carefully approached her sleeping area, the padding of her hands searching for the rough cotton sheets. Slipping between them she stretched her whole body out, yawning deeply into her belly. She was satisfied. She had done good today, her freedom was back and she could feel things were about to change.

***

When she awoke Cora knew, somehow that Shem would be waiting for her. It had been five long years since she had seen her brother; ever since the miners had been contracted to the island to extract what was left of any fossil fuels - for the rich, who refused to listen and invest in any other form of trade. Then, later, workers were forced into unpaid labour in return for food and phone credit, when coal was no longer valued.

Cora blinked hard; eyes wide, forehead wet she rubbed her face with the back of her checkered sleeve and tore her blankets away. Stumbling around in the dark of the hull she steadied herself against the rusting inner walls; her fingertips feeling along the side of her makeshift bed - an old mattress stuffed with newspaper and worn springs. 'Damn it', she thought as her coarse fingers knocked over her Grandfather's hip flask, hearing the thick glug of whiskey seeping out of the unscrewed cap. More forcefully this time, she patted the floor until she felt liquid. Following the stream she quickly grasped the bottle and shook it before bringing it to her lips. Relief spreading across her face, she took a few sips; drink was rare around here, who knows where her next supply would come from. Luckily she hadn't lost too much, but even so, a mere drop was enough to really notice these days.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness she moved about her self-made cabin, preparing for what was to come. Re-checking her supplies, she lifted the thick, shabby curtain away from the floor of the hull and crouched down, digging her fingers into a section of old floorboard and removing it - no doubt gaining two more splinters in the process. Her hands were so worn she barely felt them now. Chewing gum, batteries, a dictaphone, three apples, a pile of old records, and with them, her most prized possession of all - the player itself. Now that she had to keep hidden, she was saving such rare currency for when she was really in trouble. All accounted for. She refitted the piece of floorboard and dropped the brocade curtain back over her treasures, hiding them from view of anyone else who might board her boat against her will.

Gripping the black heart locket hanging at her neck, tightly in her palm, she climbed back up onto the steel deck of the Red Lady. Her stomach growling she frowned, telling it now was not the time, and used her yellowing nails to pop open the Jet gemstone carved into the two halves of the heart - the last thing Shem had made her before The Cleanse began. She wondered who he'd be now. How he'd dress, what he thought. The hinge softly released and a tiny compass breathed beneath, now alert and stuttering, eager to guide her across choppy waters to the other side. Back at the helm, eyes fixed on the water, she felt the breeze brush against her face. It had to be now. With the winds in her favour, she began to set sail, heading East in search of that sunrise, and home once more, to Takarthur Bay.