Fearless by Tim Lott
“How do you know my number?” snapped back Stench.
“Everybody knows your number. You’re famous among all the Y and Z girls for being the queen of the hills and valleys of the rubbish tips.”
Stench frowned, wrinkling the brow on her big football head. “They laugh at me, I expect,” she muttered.
“Laugh?” exclaimed Little Fearless. “They don’t laugh. Why would anyone laugh? They’re jealous. To be the ruler of this place makes you the most fortunate girl here. You must be very well thought of to be given such a job by the Controller.”
Stench couldn’t help but look rather pleased at this. “Is that so? Well, I suppose … yes, of course,” she agreed, for want of anything better to say. She couldn’t ever remember being paid a compliment before, and she liked it. “It has its moments, I suppose. You never quite know what you’re going to find.”
“It must be like going on a treasure hunt every day of the week,” said Little Fearless excitedly.
“Yes,” said Stench flatly. “I suppose it is.” Then she looked out over the expanse of rubbish and a shadow seemed to pass across her features.
“X12. What on the earth is the matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t look as happy as someone as lucky as you ought to look.”
Stench’s face crumbled a little more. “I sometimes just don’t know how I’m ever going to find them,” she said, her voice suddenly quiet and wretched with self-pity.
Little Fearless arranged her face into a picture of sympathy. “What?” she asked. “What are you trying to find?”
“The precious things. The precious things I know are there somewhere.”
“Oh yes, they are there all right,” said Little Fearless brightly. “I’m sure of it.”
Again Stench went blank, like a radio with a faulty reception. After about twenty seconds she spoke again.
“I saw on the vidscreen once, this thing. A device. It’s amazing. It uses radio waves, or magnetism or something. Anyway, you just point it at a pile of stuff – rocks, sand, paper, whatever you like – and it beeps when it finds metal. It’s perfect for finding treasure in rubbish tips. I could get rich very quickly. Then who knows – maybe I could get out of this place and find my family.”
Stench went quiet again, this time for even longer.
Eventually Little Fearless felt she ought to interrupt the silence. “I understand,” she said softly. “And I can help you.”
“What do you mean?” wondered Stench, unused to anyone understanding why she wanted the Device. All the other X girls laughed at her for wanting it, doubtless because they knew there was nothing whatsoever of value in the rubbish tips.
“I can steal the Device for you.”
“Steal?” said Stench, looking thoroughly surprised. “Steal from where? From who? And how?”
“I can steal it from the City.”
Now Stench looked sceptical. “The City!” she snorted contemptuously. “No one’s allowed into the City. Not even Lady Luck.”
“I know,” said Little Fearless, winking. “But you see, the girl who had this job before you – well, do you ever wonder what happened to her?”
Stench shook her head. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been queen of the rubbish tips.
“She left the Institute and went to join her family, and now she lives in the Sunlands.”
“How,” said Stench, “could such a thing be possible?”
At this, Little Fearless lowered her voice still further and put her mouth close to Stench’s ear.
“Bribes,” she whispered. “She offered the Controller all the precious things she found in the rubbish.”
Stench frowned. Of course, she thought to herself. The Controller would be someone you could bribe. Anyone could be bought, that was for sure, if the price was right. But one thing still puzzled her.
“How did she find the precious things?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I stole the Device for her. I’m the best thief at the Institute. I’m the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter of an old family of thieves. I’m as fast as lightning and as quiet as a cat. No one ever catches me. The X girl who looked after the rubbish before you, X … um … 45, sent me to the City to steal for her. With just one visit, I got her the Device. Then she was able to find all the treasure hidden in the rubbish tips. Before she knew it, she had enough booty to bribe the Controller and head off to find her family.”
When she heard this, Stench’s voice grew low and crafty. “But how did you do it? No one can go into the City. If the Controller found out…” She rolled her eyes in anxiety at the thought.
“He won’t. X45 hid me in the rubbish bins. Like you now, she was the only one responsible for checking them. No one else would ever check them, they stink so badly.”
“You get used to it,” said Stench, slightly offended. But Little Fearless ignored her.
“I got back before midnight. So no one ever knew that I had gone.”
Stench was silent. Two little shadows flickering inside her, fear and greed, fought briefly with each other. Then she looked at Little Fearless cautiously.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You’re only a Z, even if you did use to be a Y, and so you’re not to be trusted. Apart from which, you’ve already admitted that you’re a thief, which means you’re probably a liar too.”
Little Fearless had thought of this. It brought her to the most painful part of her plan.
She reached under her soiled tweed jacket and brought out the bronze picture frame that held a photo of her grandparents, one of the three most precious treasures in the world to her. With a heart that felt like it was now beating more slowly and sadly than ever before, she held it out to Stench.
“This was a gift to me from X45 after I helped her. She found it under the rubbish mountains using the Device and gave it to me after the Controller had agreed to let her go home to her family. I want you to have it as my token of good faith,” she said, fighting back a tear as Stench wrenched the frame out of her hand.
Even Stench could see that it was a beautiful frame and worth a considerable amount of money. To Little Fearless the fact that it was valuable meant nothing. It was the fact that it held a photo of her grandparents that meant everything to her. Whatever Stench made of it, she was clearly impressed. She thrust it into the pocket of her jacket. Again she thought and thought, which, since she was stupid, took a long time.
Then suddenly her face took on a sly and knowing look. “What’s your game?” she asked. “What’s in it for you?”
“For me?” said Little Fearless, pretending to look bewildered. “Why nothing, nothing at all.”
“Come on. I’m not dumb, you know.”
Little Fearless let her face look suddenly crestfallen. “It’s true. There’s no fooling you, is there? That’s why you’re an X and I’m just a Z. Yes, there is something I want.”
“I’m listening,” said Stench, tapping her foot impatiently.
“I want… I want… I want your job when you’re gone. I want to be queen of the hills and valleys of the rubbish tips.”
Now Little Fearless contrived to look very angry and resentful. “X45 promised I would get her job after she left. But I didn’t. She lied to me,” said Little Fearless bitterly. Then she looked up at Stench, widening her eyes – one blue, one brown – in an expression of trust and admiration. “But I know you’re much better than her. I know you’re honest and true. After all, when Stargazer fainted you were kind – you gave her some water. It was after you helped us that I decided I could trust you. And I know that if I steal the Device for you, you’ll let me look after the rubbish tips.”
Stench thought again, though by now it was giving her a slight headache. She knew very well that no one, especially not a Z girl, could ever be made keeper of the rubbish by Stench. Only the Controller and X1 – Lady Luck – decided what jobs were to be done and by whom.
&n
She brought her small, dull eyes to bear on Little Fearless. “Hmm,” she said. “But how will you get back in again?”
Little Fearless suddenly felt confused. Try as she might, she hadn’t worked out this part of her plan, although she felt sure she would come to the solution somehow. What was she to say? She’d never imagined Stench would have the wits to ask her that question. Frantically she searched for an answer.
“Come on, now. You’re trying to test me again, aren’t you? I’ll get back in just like I did before. Surely you can guess how I got back in again last time,” she said, desperately trying to buy some time.
“Well…” mused Stench. “I suppose it must have been in one of the laundry vans. They come into the Institute from the City every night full of dirty clothes. No one bothers to check them on the way in, only on the way out. After all, who would want to sneak into this place?”
“Of course,” said Little Fearless, secretly breathing a sigh of relief.
“Yes, that’s it,” continued Stench. “The laundry collection and delivery centre is on the north side of that old square in the ancient part of the City – Angel Square. I’ve seen the address written on the side of the vans. That must be how you got back into the Institute.”
“Angel Square! That’s right, Stench! How did you work it out?”
Stench was too busy preening herself on account of her cleverness to respond.
There was one last long silence.
“But how do I know you won’t simply run away?”
Little Fearless put her hands on her hips and looked up at the heavens. “Why would I run away when I could have the chance to be the queen of the hills and valleys of the rubbish tips? What in the City, with its bombs and chaos and crowds and noise, could possibly be better than that? Anyway, I came back for X45. Why wouldn’t I come back for you?”
Stench had considered as carefully as she knew how. And now there was no doubt which of the two shadows fighting in her heart had won. She gave out a low, loud grunt. Which was her way of saying yes.
“As well as getting the Device, there is something else you could do,” said Stench. “When you go, I want you to keep a lookout for my family.”
“But how will I know what they look like?” asked Little Fearless.
Slowly, reluctantly, Stench reached into her inner jacket pocket and took out a battered old photo.
It was a glossy colour photograph, with a white border, of a family standing on a wide yellow beach. They were suntanned and wearing swimming costumes. At their feet were a rubber ring and a sandcastle. Behind them was a glittering blue sea. The family, a mother and a father, and a boy and a girl both about Little Fearless’s age, were smiling broadly at the camera and waving, and they had their arms around one another. They looked happy and free. In the white border in black pen, someone had written in beautiful copperplate handwriting Our holiday in the Sunlands.
“What’s this?” said Little Fearless.
“My family,” said Stench simply.
Little Fearless decided not to ask any more questions. She felt sure this perfect family was unlikely to be related in any way to the lumpish, unattractive girl who stood in front of her; but nevertheless she took the photograph delicately from Stench and put it in her pocket.
“Be careful with that! Keep it safe,” urged Stench. She looked like she was about to cry.
“I will,” said Little Fearless. “I promise.”
And with that, she walked silently back to the Living Block and Hall Seven, as Stench turned once more to rummage among the rubbish.
Escape
Good words make history;
bad words make misery.
Election campaign
slogan of the City Boss
Some time later, when all the other girls were in bed, Little Fearless crept out of Hall Seven. As usual she was wearing her battered tweed suit, and in her inside pocket she carried a lock of Tattle’s hair and a crude City map which she had torn out of one of the old geography books in the study area of the Work Block. Tattle’s father, according to Tattle, always chose night duty because of the higher wages, which suited Little Fearless’s purposes ideally.
In the fading light, she made her way carefully to the tips just as Stench was about to fill up the last of the rubbish bins. There were twenty of them, most full to the brim.
They were huge cylindrical contraptions with high metal sides and small black wheels. Even empty, the rubbish containers stank, always carrying the echo of the filth they transported. The containers were so tall, Little Fearless’s head only came halfway up the sides, so she could not look into them. But she could smell them – and it was unbearable.
“Come on, Z73,” hissed Stench impatiently, looking around fearfully. “The lorry comes in fifteen minutes. You must be ready.”
Little Fearless got ready to climb into one of the containers. Gusts of wind swept across the rubbish tips, propelling empty tin cans along the ground. Crows picked at old scraps of food.
She was just trying to decide which container was the least awful smelling, when she heard a sound that made her scalp crawl.
It was the thin high whistle of a nursery rhyme melody. Inside her head, Little Fearless filled in the words.
The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then?
Poor thing!
Little Fearless tried to clamber up the sides of the container nearest to her – which, unluckily, was the worst-smelling one of all – but it was too high. So Stench, beginning to panic, and using all her remarkable strength, picked Little Fearless up by the waist and threw her in. She crashed through the layers of rubbish and landed on the hard metal base with a great thud. Immediately she covered herself with any stinking rubbish she could lay her hands on, until she was invisible. The smell overwhelmed her, and she began to retch, but by sheer willpower she kept down most of the contents of her stomach and spat out the taste of bitter bile in her mouth.
Little Fearless lay very still as the whistling grew louder and louder, until finally it was right outside the rubbish container. Then she heard a voice, soft and rather musical.
“Evening, Stench,” said Lady Luck, her fake-sweet voice full of mischief and spite. “And how much treasure have you found today?” She blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke into Stench’s face.
The Whistler, who was accompanying Lady Luck, started to giggle moronically. Little Fearless could imagine the mocking smile on Lady Luck’s face as she spoke. At that moment, Little Fearless saw a stab of light penetrating the metal side of the container. She put her eye to it. Outside, she could see Lady Luck tossing her coin up in the air.
“Please, X1, nothing at all,” said Stench meekly, who, for all her strength, feared Lady Luck’s power and malice.
Lady Luck smiled, her pretty face brightening, her eyes as cold as ever. “Nothing? Well, how extraordinary. What with all those valuables the girls throw away, I’m surprised you can move without falling over a treasure chest or a box of gold.”
The Whistler’s giggling grew louder.
“I don’t think you’re looking hard enough. Have you checked in there?” She indicated a box of rotten fish that Stench had been about to throw into Little Fearless’s rubbish container.
But before Stench had a chance to answer, the Whistler picked up the box and pushed it into Stench’s face.
“Anything in there at all? Pearls? Or a golden crown?” said Lady Luck.
When Stench took her face out, there was the remnant of a small fish head tangled in her hair. It was all Little Fearless could do, despite the danger she was in, to keep from laughing. But underneath
“Well?” said Lady Luck mockingly.
“Nothing in there, X1,” said Stench, choking and gagging.
“Shame. Still, keep looking, eh?” She gave a fake-friendly smile, then threw her half-smoked cigarette into the container where Little Fearless was hiding. It tumbled through the layers of rubbish and landed on her arm. She felt a stinging pain, but she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. She extinguished the cigarette with spit.
Rubbing her sore arm, Little Fearless saw the Whistler and Lady Luck walk away, giggling. Then the whistling started again. Lady Luck sang along, punctuating the words with harsh, contemptuous laughter.
“You shall have a fishy
In a little dishy,
You shall have a fishy when the boat comes in.”
At last the whistling faded entirely. Then Little Fearless heard Stench’s hissed voice. “You’d better bring back the Device.” And with this, Stench threw the box of fish into the container. Several old bones tumbled down the pile of rubbish into Little Fearless’s face.
The rubbish continued to rain down on Little Fearless as Stench tried to pack the container as densely as she could, with the worst of the rubbish she could find. There were scraps of old machinery from broken washers and dryers, shattered eggs, toenails, chicken bones, maggots, dead rats, scum from the drains – every different kind of filth you could imagine. Finally the rubbish stopped coming; then, for what seemed like ages, nothing happened. Little Fearless began to wonder if the lorry was ever going to arrive.
Then she felt herself, very slowly, begin to move. She rocked back and forth with the bumping of the container. It stopped. She heard a brief snatch of conversation. The voice that penetrated the metal walls was very familiar.
“It’s cold, and I’m fed up with gate duty. Let’s get this out of the way, then I can go to bed. Though I don’t think I’ll be able to go to sleep. My mattress is too hard. Lumpy as an elephant’s arse. The hardest one there is. And my skin is quite delicate. I always get the worst shifts. Still, could be worse. Don’t know how, though. Have you checked the rubbish? All secure, is it?”