Forty-six: Snail shell

What could I say? What was there to say?

"The truth is," Kiran said, "I've been watching you for years."

"Stalker," I accused. He had to come back to this topic. I didn't want to think about it. Did this mean he knew I broke the internet? I didn't mean to be paranoid but I had to check. "Years? You've been planning this for years. Well, yes, I guess you almost had to. How come I never noticed you before? You aren't exactly unnoticeable. How many years has it been?"

"I made sure to stay out of your way," he said in a dreamy voice. "I didn't want to get you in trouble. I can still remember the first time I saw you. You'd just put a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest back and a boy on a skateboard knocked you over. He even called you names for getting in his way, when it was his fault for not watching where he was going. All you did was shrug. The people around you asked if you were all right and you said that the boy must have been having a bad day. You might not know, but earlier that day, I had seen that same boy being bullied by some older boys. Later that afternoon, you came across the boy in the park. He was alone and had fallen down, grazing his knees. You helped him clean up. Put some sticking bandages on and even bought him a drink. You left him smiling."

I remembered that day too. I'd had a rotten day that had started with bad hair that wouldn't stay down and ended with a fight with my parents. I can't remember what the fight had been about. Something trivial, anyway. What had made it memorable was that angry, miserable skateboard kid. In comforting the boy, I had been trying to comfort myself.

"That was a bad day."

"Was it? Then I find you all the more admirable."

"That was three years ago," I realised with some relief. That means he didn't and couldn't know that I was the one who had broken the internet. That incident had happened two years prior. How had I not noticed that someone had been stalking me these past few years? "You've been spying on me for three years? Pervert. Stalker. Why'd you only approach me now the war has begun?"

I heard Kiran chuckle softly.

"I wasn't strong enough to protect you before, but now I am. Anyway," his voice turned serious again. "I thought I'd better let you know. My people are going to make a move again soon. You should leave the city if you can. It'll be safer for you."

"I can't leave," I replied. "Even if I wanted to. There are too many people watching me. My government wants to keep me as bait for you. If I left or tried, they'd think I really was a spy and then I'd be in real big trouble. They're shooting traitors, you know."

"Then," Kiran said, "I'll do my best to keep you safe. You should be safe enough in the Compound for the moment. There are people coming over now. I'm gonna go."

"Stop following me," I hissed after him. "Stalker." After a moment, when he had gone, "Idiot," I said to myself. My feelings were contradictory. The Bosky soldier gave me such mixed feelings, it was uncomfortable. "Jean, you're a big fat idiot. What were you doing?"

Come to think of it, why had I not told Mr Cooper and Mr Raring about the rest of the Bosky soldiers still hanging around in disguise? They'd probably known all along, but it still wouldn't hurt my credibility. I'd decided it was best to tell them everything. That way they might be able to get me out of the Compound one day, after they had caught all the Boskies.

"Excuse me, young lady," said a voice near my ear, startling me. A greying older gentleman peered at me under the bush, "but are you all right?"

"I will be," I replied, after getting over my fright, detangling my hair from the bush where it had caught when I had started and dabbing my eyes since rubbing them pulled at the little wounds around them, hoping they weren't as red as I felt they were. They were probably very red and gave away that I'd been crying. "Thank you."

"Did you lose something down there?" he smiled at my reply and helped me up out from the snatching twigs that caught at my hair.

"Only my snail shell," I gestured a largish shape with my arms and tried not to wince at the pain the movement elicited. I'd forgotten about all that for a bit, while talking to my Bosky soldier. My Bosky soldier? What was I saying? I meant Kiran. "The one that I can hide in from the rest of the world and that lets me feel like I could possibly go home again one day. Snail shell. You know what I mean?"

Really, it was likely he thought I was crazy. I barely knew what I was saying.

"I see," the gentleman tried to brush leaves and twigs from my shoulder and was startled when I yelped and sprang away, water marring my vision. "Sorry," he raised his hands. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"It's okay," I said through my tears and gritted my teeth. "I've just got a sore shoulder." I forced a smile, trying to brush myself down, but having to stop because of the pain. My tummy felt like a big ball of bruises and my back and shoulders felt raw. "Do I have any other leaves or twigs on me?"

"Yes," the gentleman pointed. "Just - just in your hair and there, yes. You got it."

He looked concerned at my wincing and tears. Especially when I tried to raise my arm and hissed, finding I couldn't raise it quite high enough.

"Would you mind if I helped?"

"Please," I bent my head and he distangled a twig and a few leaves for me. "Thank you."

"I hope you don't mind me asking again, but are you sure you're all right?"

"No," I wiped my eyes again. "But I will be. Eventually."

"Are you hurt?"

"I'll - I'll be fine," I gave him a watery smile and began to walk away. "Thank you for your help. Have a lovely day."

"Um, excuse me, young lady, but are these your things?" the gentleman pointed at my plastic bag of medication and flowers, bending down to pick them up for me.

"Oh," I gave a small laugh and tried not to make a face when that hurt the bruises on my abdomen. "I forgot about those. Thank you."

I took the plastic bag, but left him with the flowers.

"Please, for all your help, keep the flowers," I told the gentleman. "I literally have no where to put them and they're - they're a bit too heavy for me. I've got a long way to go and they're wasted on me. Please give them to your wife or something or accept them as my thanks. I - I've got to go. Please excuse me."

I hurried away and gave a small smile when the older gentleman called after me again.

"Young lady," he waved. "Thank you. I hope you have a good day."

"You too," I called.