There’s a buzz in the outer hall, echoing around its rock walls and bouncing the urgent whispers from the low ceiling and Ash watches the advance scout, Morgan, just back from patrol, as she imparts her news to the those nearest the tunnel mouth. Whatever it is, its big, her gestures frantic, her mouth moving fast and people huddle around her, heads bent to catch the words. Ash hangs back, comforted by the weight of rock, solid at her back, as the group passes the news from person to person, each mouth opening in shock, before passing the message on. Ash is tense and even before the news reaches her, she catches fragmented echoes: The Day patrol are coming back, wounded. Then: only one of them is wounded. And another: No, no-one is wounded; but they have someone with them. As the news approaches, she hears the dread word uttered but dismisses it, until she feels Ayla’s hot breath against her ear and she can’t avoid it: Outsider.
The word alone spikes her adrenalin: Outsider, a word, that means fear, disease and death.
‘No,’ she says reflexively, ‘No, that doesn’t make sense.’
Ayla’s eyes are a mix of anxiety and confusion, and she just shrugs. But Ash doesn’t believe it, doesn’t want to believe it. ‘No,’ she repeats, ‘But…the Rules?’
Ayla shakes her head, but looks worried; they all look worried. Ash sticks to her logic: It can’t be an Outsider, because they are coming into the tunnels, into the Keeper’s System where they live and that breaks the Rules of Survival, which they breath in almost from birth.
Rule One for a start: the Keepers are the only family; actions that affect one affect all. Not to mention, Rule Two: The Tunnels are sacred; And Rule Four: Outsiders are a threat; until proven otherwise and she has never heard of an outsider being proved safe. Her mind skitters across the rules, as she, like the others, turn to watch up-tunnel like hunting birds, waiting for movement. Why are they bringing the Outsider down here? A silence settles over them, but she sees Iris, Hazel, and Topaz, all holding their knives, calm but ready, and she fingers the knife at her belt, hoping she doesn’t look as scared as she feels.
She knows Marian is patrol leader today. Marian isn’t afraid of much and together with her second, Clora they are the most experienced to take a group out in the glares of the day. Day patrols are always the riskiest, out in the open where they might be seen, but they need supplies of fresh things: berries, starchy roots, and herbs for medicines. Ash hoped they’ve brought a brace of juicy rabbits; she’s had enough rat to last her a while, but she thinks an Outsider probably put an end to rabbit.
Ash has only just completed her first Night patrol, perimeter checking. Her heart was like a hammer the whole way round while she concentrated on her training, embodying Rule Three: Silence is Security; Noise is a Killer. Her feet landed like she walked on soft cloth, her breathing even and calm; stalking through the dark woods, half crouched. She had done well, but – her face flushes with embarrassment at the memory – the patrol leader, Rache had had to pull her down at one point, murmuring, ‘Don’t stop on the ridge line, you’ll stand out, even at night.’ She could have kicked herself, but later Rache had nodded, and said the best learning was from mistakes, you didn’t forget them in a hurry.
There are gasps by the tunnel mouth as the day patrol come into view, Marian leading followed by the others and Ash sees the crowd pull away as if from something frightening. She watches as Marian stands to one side of the patrol, her gun resting lightly across her arms, the others spacing themselves behind, but her eyes are drawn to Clora and Masha holding a drooping woman between them. The Outsider. She’s clothed in tattered rags, filthy with mud and her skinny arms held firmly in Clora and Masha’s work-hardened hands. Nothing can be seen of her face, hidden by the hanging head, topped by a wildness of matted hair, knitted with leaves and twigs. They drop the dead weight to the floor, and the smell reaches Ash, a rancid brew of sweat, mud and rotting ripeness. Why would they bring that specimen into their tunnel system? A half corpse: why bring her here? As she’s wondering this, there’s a murmuring from the other side of the hall, accompanied by the general shifting of bodies, and to Ash’s relief, the Council appears: Mayor Platt and the two officers, Hallam and Prean. Now, surely the Outsider will be taken back up tunnel and order will be restored.
Everyone can see Mayor Platt is furious, Ash can see a flush on her cheeks and how her nostrils flare even from this distance. She might be too young to fully grasp the politics of the System, but even she can tell that dumping an Outsider in the Hall before the Mayor is more than a dangerous move. It’s a declaration.
Mayor Platt and Marian stare at each other for a while, both grim and tight-lipped, something passing between them, but when Mayor Platt speaks it’s with her usual controlled calm, and to Ash’s surprise says, ‘Take the Outsider to the Medical Bay. It is clear that medical help is required. We will have to check for Contamination.’ The message, as if it needed spelling out, is clear to everyone here. Marian and Clora have endangered the Keepers. Officers Prean and Hallam nod to a couple of tunnel monitors nearby, who hurry to pick up the Outsider. As they pass Ash, the Outsider’s ragged shoe tugs against a rock and pulls off, revealing a pallid foot, with a filth ingrained sole. Ash picks it up to hand to the monitors, but they have already gone ahead into the tunnel and Officer Prean glares and jerks her head at Ash to follow.
They pass the mouths to many other tunnels, these branches leading to deeper parts of the system, to the sleeping and eating areas, the school rooms, but also to dead-ends or pits lined with spikes, to catch any Outsiders and leave them dead or wounded. No Keeper over the age of five would ever make such a basic mistake as a wrong turn though, and the monitors go past the dead end branches, until they reach the turn into medical. This tunnel is one of Ash’s favourites, clean and dry, mostly rock, and she hurries eagerly after them, filled by a nervous excitement, that by pure luck she has been allowed to join them and be close to a real Outsider. Not in good condition, the woman looks like she’s had a rough life out there, but still. Ash will have much to talk to the others about when she sees them. Inside knowledge, a description better than many will have back out in the hall. The doors to medical swing open and the monitors huff and puff towards a gurney, struggling with the unconscious woman, who seems to be all gangly stick legs and arms.
One of them, Mellit, turns and sees her, saying crossly, ‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping, lend a hand!’ and Ash rushes forward, grasping an arm, feeling the sinews under the skin, no body fat at all. Her head spins with the knowledge and dread that she’s touching an Outsider! She tries not to think of diseases. Between them they grapple the body onto the gurney and lay it on its back. She’s a tall woman, and her feet hang off the end of the gurney. Ash tries to straighten what’s left of the trousers. They have become twisted around the twiggy legs, and its only as she stands back and sees the monitor’s faces, mouths open and staring eyes, that she whispers, ‘What? What is it?’ and looks back at the body.
The head is resting on the pillow, the body limp, and the arms hang off the sides of the gurney, but it’s the Outsider’s face that transfixes them all. Eyelashes lying on grime encrusted cheeks, long and black; strong eyebrows, but it’s the hair that shocks.
‘Look,’ whispers Mellit, ‘Is that a…’
‘Beard?’ Ash hears herself respond, her voice awed, reaching out a hand to touch the springy mane.
Before she can, the doors open behind her, and she hears Mayor Platt’s voice, dry and resigned, ‘Yes. It is indeed a beard. It seems our efficient patrol has snared a Man.’
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