The People We Are

Chapter 3

One thing about Vanjeet that Evelyn had discovered: he was not one for being silent. Indeed, he muttered to himself in Hindi most of the way to the new place, ignoring the fact that he was practically dragging a teenage girl in the gravelly dirt behind him. By the time he had stopped sprinting, Evelyn had around five new bruises and a minor cut on her bare arms, give or take.

"And yahaan," Vanjeet announced as they came to a dead end. "To your left, and careful not to step in the fox mess, malady."

Evelyn pivoted on her right foot (which was aching a lot) and faced the left-hand wall. It was located in an alleyway about a metre wide, and inset into the worn bricks was a small blue door. A motif of a letter "O" wearing a bandana was splurged onto the door in white paint. Just in front of the door, as Vanjeet had so helpfully implied, was a medium-sized pile of faeces. "What is this place?" Evelyn asked, ignoring the smell of... well, poo.

"My home," Vanjeet replied simply. He leaned forwards, and pushed open the door. "Ladies first."

Cautiously, Evelyn stepped over the fox mess and felt her feet (thankfully) touch what felt like a well-worn rug. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward with her other foot and took in her surroundings.

It was an average-sized storeroom that looked as if no one had used it for decades. Stray cobwebs hung here and there, and the shelves were caked in dull grey dust. However, Vanjeet had made several improvements: a worn, dirty Persian rug (Evelyn silently appraised herself) lay by the door; a small mattress and an old raincoat were pushed by a side wall; a camping stove was set up upon a low shelf, and a lightbulb with an actual lampshade was hanging on the ceiling, glowing faintly.

"Nice, isn't it?" Vanjeet stepped into the room behind her and shut the door. "This has been my home for three years. I've had to keep moving, else the Containment Control would have gotten me ages ago."

With an understanding nod of her head, Evelyn plonked herself down on a wooden stool next to the entrance and sighed with exhaustion. "What do you have in the way of food round here? Except this," Evelyn asked, withdrawing the slightly squashed sponge cake from her pocket.

"Hmm..." Vanjeet thought for a second, said "Aha!", jogged towards a high shelf and reached up for a box, grunting. After a few moments, he retrieved a small cardboard tray, not much different to the one Evelyn had found the sausage and chips in. He brought it over to his guest, gave a flourish with his hands, and opened the lid.

Inside were a few torn-up pieces of bread- at least, Evelyn thought it was bread, though she couldn't be sure, for it was slightly burnt and flat. There was also a small plastic dish which contained some sort of sticky orange sauce. She looked up at Vanjeet with raised eyebrows.

"Naan bread," he explained patiently. "It's an Indian dish. Slightly overcooked flatbreads with spices- and, of course, mango chutney," he added, gesturing towards the orange liquid. "Tuck in."

Hesitantly, Evelyn took a small piece of flatbread and dipped a corner into the chutney. After a quick glance up at her acquaintance, she took a nibble off the end of this new food.

It was like nothing she'd ever tasted before. The chutney, sweet and tart, complimented the dull bread perfectly. She gave a moan of contentment and began to eat more. "Dish ish show gud," she mumbled through a mouthful of naan.

Vanjeet had also taken a piece of bread, and he too was eating it- but in more controlled, smaller bites. "I know, right?"

Evelyn, without asking, reached out for more. When Vanjeet did not recoil, she grabbed a larger piece of naan and began to eat it, trying to regulate her bites. "It's delicious! Thank you for letting me have some," she added quickly. Mind your manners, Evelyn.

A soft smile from Vanjeet. "You gonna stay tonight? It's a dangerous world out there..."

A million thoughts brewed in Evelyn's mind. Yes, Vanjeet was correct- the horrible Containment Control might swoop in and grab them in an instant. However, could she really trust Vanjeet to look after her? No, she could look after herself. But her mouth disagreed. "Yes please," she replied. "It's safer. All I have for company is my pigeon, anyhow."

As Vanjeet grinned, Evelyn, her brain scolding her huge mouth, decided that, although he looked genuine, she should be more wary of him from here on out.

***

Commissioner Cleardoor was fuming.

The Containment Control had failed. Vanjeet Ra'Hala had slipped through their fingers again. If any more failures happened, it would have to get serious.

Cleardoor checked the records. A seventeen-year-old, Indian boy, assumed to be an extremist. Average height. Often seen wearing an army jacket in green. Single.

They'd been scouting him since he was five, and they still had not caught him.

Composing himself, Cleardoor took a sip of lemonade from a can and peered at his desktop, where the screen sat, blank and ghostly white. His dull grey keyboard lay upon the table, the letters QWERTYUIOP observing him from the top row.

Suddenly, his screen flared blue. A new message, from Lieutenant Small of the CC. Cleardoor lifted his half-moon glasses to his eyes, reading the subject line: New Outcast Noted Down.

A monstrous grin spread across the Commissioner's pudgy face.