****
As usual, Ray watched the red sun die from his window then slipped into his mother’s study to look west. Right on time the fog settled, calming the steaming town. Ray stared down at the empty view when he saw a pair of strapped boots flash past his house and head back west towards the other side of town.
That night Ray didn’t say anything to his mother about the day’s revelations. Beatrice seemed in a similar frame of mind, her strange openness earlier was replaced by the usual grouchy dictatorship that she ran the house with every other night.
The morning of Kobal Night, Ray headed out into the dusty sun looking for Ivy. He was certain that they had been her boots in the fog last night. As he passed the Scarecrow, he realized with a shock that he might not see Ivy. She had been exposed to the Scarecrow, so it was likely that she was ill or worse. The thought troubled him. There was something about Ivy: whether it was her strange expressions, or her mocking of the authority that she was part of, she was a different specimen than most in this wasteland.
There were not as many folk on the streets as Ray had expected, but as he approached the square, it was over-flowing. Most huddled around the bonfires. When Ray approached the edges of the gathering, he felt a ripple go through the crowd and they immediately dispersed into smaller groupings, animatedly talking with friends and family. Ray was baffled, it was as if they were a choreographed herd and he was the signal for a new formation. Before he could ask someone what was going on, Ivy squeezed out of the crowd and came towards him. She snatched Ray’s hand and dragged him a street away and into a small passage.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he asked, but Ivy wouldn’t say a word until she seemed sure they were alone.
‘What you saw there was not meant for you Ray. You’ve gotta be careful, folk’ll think you’re spying for Beatrice,’ Ivy said, she seemed worried and annoyed at the same time.
‘What’s happening over there?’ Ray asked, ‘and won’t they think you’re spying too?’
‘Oh, just organizing plans for tonight,’ Ivy said, ‘I won’t be suspected.’ She seemed to talk like she was one of them. Then Ray remembered why he was doubly shocked with her appearance.
‘You’re ok,’ he said, mystified, ‘Why are you ok?’
‘What are talking about?’
‘Last night you were too late. The Scarecrow got you. I saw your boots in the fog.’
This finally drew a definite emotion, Ivy laughed, ‘Ha! I won’t have to convince you. Now do you see Ray? He didn’t get me because there is no he. It’s just colored air, I’m fine. This whole system is a lie and I have no idea why. Only your sweet mother can tell us that.’
‘But she can’t know anything about this, I mean those men died just a few months ago.’
‘They didn’t die Ray. I got word from Mikey yesterday, he survived and Beatrice knows it. I bet she’s been “fogging” folk for years, with her personal brand of fog,’ She made a shooting motion with her hand, a wry smile on her face at Ray’s discomfort. Ray couldn’t believe this, he knew his mother was harsh, especially to anyone who questioned her or questioned the Scarecrow, but he couldn’t fathom why she would go to all the trouble.
‘But why would that man contact you? You’re the one who dobbed him in,’
‘I’m sorry to tell you this Ray, you don’t seem so bad, but Mikey’s a friend of mine. In winter we started talking about his “serene scarecrow”, we didn’t like that Beatrice insisted on leaving him big portions of food when we had so little. Mikey and his brother went out one night just before sunset to take a little. Well, they messed up the time and got caught in the fog. We waited but nothing happened, there were no signs of approaching death or even illness. So I dobbed them in for stealing food.’
‘What?’ Ray began but then he saw the genius in this. It let Ivy get close to his mother and let the others test out the Scarecrow again. ‘But, if what you’re saying is true, why didn’t Beatrice just kill them herself?’ Ray asked, sickened at the thought.
‘They were afraid of that once it was past sunset and she left them in the jail. But luckily the Scarecrow is enough of a threat that security’s not too tight at night.’
‘Then why didn’t they tell everyone they had survived?’ Ray asked.
‘Wanted to see if Beatrice would go along with it, and I don’t need to tell you she did. She made sure everyone knew those guys were dead, and most folk she told, I started telling a different story.’
Ray was beyond shocked Ivy was behind all of this. Ivy, who his mother had taken in and probably trusted more than she trusted Ray. He knew Beatrice was not the nicest of people but underneath all her harsh laws and aggression, Ray always felt that she truly had Deathdefy’s best interests in mind.
‘I have to go,’ he said, ‘see if any of your wild stories are true.’
‘Well if when you’re done, she hasn’t brainwashed you anymore,’ Ivy’s absent smirk reappeared, ‘come join us. We’re going to visit to Scarecrow tonight and burn the bastard to the ground!’ Pure glee was in her voice at the thought. Yesterday Ivy had been helping kids set up for a party and now she was the vicious head of the rebellion set to destroy everything Deathdefy was built on. Ray couldn’t look at her anymore; he just pushed past her and headed home as fast as he could.
When Ray finally escaped the beating sun, which was having a stronger effect on him than usual, his mother wasn’t home. She must be patrolling. He waited for hours, the sun speeding through its daily arc. By the time of its steady descent into the east, Ray’s thoughts had molded into a rhythm of names: Mother, Ivy, Scarecrow. That’s what it all hinged on, what was the Scarecrow really? Ray went to his room, so he could look at the damn thing. The Scarecrow’s gnarly head seemed to have grown larger with the shadows. Instead of fog, Ray was shocked to see a large figure trudging slowly from its shadowy base. It was his mother. Seeing her coming out of the Scarecrow Ray went suddenly blank and tired, he stumbled down stairs and waited.
Before long, he heard the door open and a huff of exhaustion. The heavy footsteps of his mother came towards him and at seeing Ray slumped on the couch, she stopped.
‘Ray?’ What’re you doin’?’
‘Scarecrow,’ Ray said without thinking and then, ‘do you know what’s going on out there? I think you’ve lost them.’ Ray didn’t have the energy to explain further. To his immense surprise and waking him up, his mother just said, ‘I know, but have I lost you?’
‘Tell me about the Scarecrow Beatrice,’ he said coldly, ‘then I’ll tell you if you’ve lost me.’ She looked Ray up and down as if deciding which story he deserved. Then finally she let out a weary sigh and said, ‘The Scarecrow’s our legacy Ray.’
‘Our what?’ Ray asked completely thrown.
‘Legacy, Ray, Legacy! And they’re ‘bout to ruin everythin’, not just for us but for them too. It’s time I told you what happened with your gran’ma Eliza,’ she said. ‘She was there at Fallout, saw everyone she knew die. Didn’t see how the world could’ve survived it, things were messed up when it did. There were mainly just kids left and Eliza was a very smart lady, she saw they needed a leader. Eliza always said she was a scientist. I dunno what that is, but she made calculations, there wasn’t much left; animals were worthless and there were only a few sources of food and not much else. If they kept livin’ like they were, only two generations might survive. It scared her, so she tried to introduce a new way of livin’. Workin’ hard so we could keep on goin’ and not goin’ out at night for all the waste those useless night hours have on our supplies. But folk didn’t fall into line. They didn’t wanna work all day and hide underground all night. For Eliza, it was the only way to survive. So she built the Scarecrow.’
‘Built the Scarecrow,’ Ray felt the wall of his beliefs shattering. His mother continued.
‘She went down to the Fallout Fields and used bits of shrapnel and blown up houses to make him. Right after Fallout toxic gas had killed almost as
many as the blast, so she made a colored gas and released it every night, our family’s done the same ever since. The young folk believed that the Scarecrow came out of the wreckage. Folk’ll do what they’re told if they have enough fear. There were some dissenters but she dealt with‘m as I have a feelin’ you know we deal with‘m now.’ Ray looked up at his mother. He felt sick, she didn’t seem ashamed, just proud to recall their ‘great’ family legacy.
‘This is our legacy,’ Ray said flatly, ‘creating fear and working folk to the bone, I guess Kobal Night was Eliza’s idea too?’ he asked.
‘Well, folk need a little hope,’ Beatrice said, ‘With Kobal night they felt some love for the Scarecrow, he wasn’t all bad.’
‘But how could you do this, this isn’t life? It’s just a meaningless grind!’ The sick feeling was not going away. His mother’s fleshy smile wobbled into a frown. ‘We gotta survive Ray, without the Scarecrow we can’t. S’the only way to continue.’
‘Some things are more important than surviving Beatrice,’ Ray said. She seemed disappointed, this woman who he could no longer call his mother didn’t seem to understand his anger. Ray couldn’t look at her, he left the house. He would never come back.
****
It was dark out now and Ray wanted nothing more than to find Ivy. He needed some sense to dilute Beatrice’s warped logic. He wanted to prove to her that he hadn’t been brain-washed. He stomped down to the Fallout Fields, following the line of torches that blazed a path to the Scarecrow. He began to run, determined to reach the Scarecrow before the mob. He arrived and looked up at it, his whole life the Scarecrow had watched over him, he had seen folk die in its name. Now, it was just a mess of metal and wood. He dropped to his knees at its base. The line of torches was almost here. Ray saw Ivy at the head, eye’s blazing, torch in hand. One look at him and she grabbed his hand and passed him a torch. Together, they burned his legacy.
****
About the author:
Amanda Hockless lives in Perth, Western Australia and is studying writing and history at Edith Cowan University. She loves the idea of escapism in writing and the ability to create new worlds. Books are one of her great passions and she has travelled to many distant parts of the world from Venice to Washington to experience her favorite literary settings.
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