The Book of Malachi by T.C. Farren

Author:T.C. Farren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

WEDNESDAY

I wake to the sound of water showering down. I listen for the cawing of five thousand waking chickens. The rig gives me the near silence of five thousand rivets. I check my timepiece. Fifteen minutes. I hang my legs off the bed in a leisurely manner, but as my feet touch the cold floor I remember last night’s embarrassment. Apparently I was singing.

I tug off my party clothes, rub at the indent from my belt buckle. Somehow I slept without disturbing the neat pile of laundry Tamba left for me. I lift the white trousers off the pile, pull them on. They are beautifully smooth, astonishingly white, like the clean-dry machine personally went and swapped them for a brand-new pair. I slip my plastic voicebox into the pocket. Next, my white ball-boy shirt. The sound of falling water stops. I wriggle my feet into my sneakers with the yellow stains, tug my trousers down so the hem covers them. I need to get out before Tamba teases me about my tongueless lullaby. I cup my hand, blow into it. Ooh. Not as pure as my white outfit. Still. I hurry from the room to escape Tamba’s dripping smirk and the eyes of my grandfather, his legs bending gently with the to and fro of his ferry.

* * *

Breakfast is melted cheese you could cross a river on. Janeé puts my own rubber mat in front of me. Meirong and Romano are already sitting with their plates, but they have not yet tackled their cheese. There is not a single sign of Meirong’s laughter from last night. She is in bright orangey red, like she just fell into a furious sunset.

‘You sure you can destroy it?’ she asks Romano cryptically.

Romano nods. ‘Bring me the right explosive. Trobancubane.’

‘We must wait until they’re far enough so they don’t hear the blast.’

‘Wait. Wait,’ Romano mutters darkly. ‘That’s all you ever say.’

‘Yes. Wait!’ Meirong seizes her knife, saws into her ferry.

There is no water on the table today. Today I will have to be brave. I snatch at the red juice in the jug, pour myself half a glass. I toss it between my lips before I have time to think about the colour of blood. It strips the mucous membranes of my mouth immediately, deodorises my mouth with fake raspberry. I feel an itchy feeling deep in my brain, but there is something exhilarating about the syrupy drink. For a second, my mind is a simple fake fruit, not a tangle of trepidation, a constant jousting between pride and shame.

I take another sip, careful not to drip it on my white angel’s outfit.

A happy zing. Mmm. Interesting.

Tamba wafts in, smelling of something that clashes horribly with raspberry. He sits down in a midnight-blue shirt, looks from face to face, confused by the current of anger crisscrossing the room. ‘Any news?’

Meirong shakes her head, ‘So far, so good.’

Tamba lifts his cheese with his fingers, stares curiously at what lies beneath it. I scoop out some cubes of what might be potato, chew enthusiastically.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.