Perfectly Scarred

The Persistence of An Old Whistleblower

As soon as I hear their footsteps die away and their voices fade, I try to come up for air. Terrified it's a trick and that Carina will be standing beside me with a swarm of Whistleblowers, I fight my way out from under the sheet and timber.

It's more difficult than I thought; it's heavy- Granddad has really piled on the wood.

No longer concerned about the possible trap, I don't want to suffocate, so I use both legs to kick up. The timber goes flying. I do the same with my arms, pushing the wood up and out. Some of it lands on my legs and shins, and gasp with pain.

I pull the sheet away and feel the air on my face. I gulp it in hungrily. I climbed out of my grave and run toward the woods.

As soon as I'm back at the edge of the farm that leads into blackness and safety, I look back. The pit is a mess. If I leave it like that it will be obvious that Granddad hid me and led Carina away for my escape. He will suffer my carelessness. They'll know I'm here and they'll find me in seconds.

I will have no hope escaping from so many Whistleblowers in this wood. I hear Granddad's and Carina's voices in the distance as they return from the barn.

Granddad is speaking loudly, perhaps deliberately, to warn me.

I look to the pit and then back to the woods, to possible freedom. I have no choice.

I sprint back to the pit, fix the sheet and the strewn timber and moss as quickly and neatly as I can, hearing their footsteps, so close now. My heart thumps wildly, I feel the throbbing in my neck and head. It's as though I'm moving in slow motion, like this is a nightmare that I can only hope to wake from. But it's not. It's happening for real.

I see the flash of black and red of Carina's uniform, then I run again. I've barely entered the woods and hidden behind the first tree when they come fully into sight.

I'm sure they have seen me. Terrified, I push my back flat against the trunk, heart pounding, chest heaving and fighting my urge not to cry.

"I don't see why you couldn't just use my lighter" Carina says, irritated. She's annoyed she didn't find me in the barn.

Granddad laughs, mockingly, which I knkw will anger her further. "No, no. You've got to be authentic. This tradition is thousands of years old. It's one thing, you forcing me to do this before I'd intended to, but if I'm lighting it, I'm lighting it my way."

He sounds adamant and I know none of it is for real. Though he does like authenticity, he isn't averse to matchsticks or lighters, he simply went to the barn to give me a chance to escape.

He starts to light a fire using flint and his penknife. I've seen Granddad do this numerous times- he can light a fire in a matter of seconds, but he messes around now, playing the part of a confused old man.

He's buying time, either because he knows I've escaped and is giving me time to hide or because he's afraid I'm still under the pile of stones and he doesn't want to set me on fire.

I want to shout to him that it's okay, that I'm not in the pit, but I can't, so instead I listen to his agonizing wait and steal a glimpse of his face.

He's not so confident now.

"What's wrong, Ram?" Carina asks slyly. "Afraid to set it on fire?"

Granddad looks lost. Torn and Tortured.

Jio arrives with more Whistleblowers, not the huge army I'd expected. Two men and one woman, and a line of the eight Failure farm workers. They look haggard as though Jio told them what's about to happen.