Graffiti

The sun rose to reveal what should have been a glorious day. Gronk had to arrange overnight repairs to his house. His men came to sweep up and replace the window, so it was finished first thing in the morning. Gronk had found the brick and the map. He studied it and his blood boiled. It showed Areas Six and Seven. The meadows and woodland in between had been officially marked as ‘no man’s land,’ but it had been struck out and replaced with ‘Nobody’s land.’ He ripped the map up in a rage. The brick incident frightened his family, but Gronk explained over and again this was a hazard of his greatness and they would have to buck up. Fathead assured him there was no chance of catching the culprit, but the night patrols would be diverted more regularly past Gronk’s house.

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Mission

A raw freshness cut into the air. Sunlight dipped over the trees, but inactivity was making him cold. When the time came to move out, his cotton and woollen clothes would prevent any rustling. The olive green combat trousers, disruptive pattern material combat jacket, balaclava and gloves ensured he was well camouflaged. Flattened down in the tall grass, he waited and looked back at his mud-spattered boots. He tapped a side pocket in his trousers holding a necessary piece of equipment and a Pinkshirt map, which had been found in Area Seven. The treetops swayed with the blustery weather.

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The Good Side

Meanwhile, the Good Side remained a hotbed of snobbery and prejudice. The brightly coloured dogsbodies were harangued and incessantly talked about as they hobbled about the place. Pinkshirts marched up and down the streets in formation to reinforce their impressiveness. It was all about looking good in their book. Gossips in the Department of Disinformation worked hard at sullying the names of Outsiders.

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Wretched

Although dirt-poor and subdued in those austere times, Outsiders showed steadfastness in their squalor. Life had knocked the stuffing out of them, but some still had hidden radios. When Pinkshirt patrols were far enough away, they listened to snippets of news bulletins from the outside world. There was a strict censorship of information about BogSplat’s Areas, but EthixCo provided updates to the news agencies about its free Areas. There was intelligence that EthixCo supported mutineers in many Areas surrounding SmogCity. Restaurant staff and servants in the Poshey houses listened out for any useful information. It was all put together and passed back to the Missing when their operatives made it through with food.

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Urban Misery

Gronk pulled an all-nighter in his office to review his tyrannical approach. He had an unshakeable self-confidence in carrying out his work and was convinced ruthless oppression was the only thing to do. And he would not listen to advice from anyone but himself. His lack of pity and feeling of infallibility bolstered a desire to dominate. Gronk was determined to suppress the spirit of the Outsiders. Subjugation was going well enough, but the necessary harm needed to be stepped up. Intransigence was his key to winning. Low-level job allocations, forcing people to live on the appropriate sides of Area Seven, information stranglehold and arrests were all a triumph. He stroked his pencil moustache. But the curfew and containment were only moderate successes. Breaches in security needed to be addressed immediately. He decided to increase patrols and introduce regular house-to-house searches.

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Counterinsurgents

Steve signalled a forward hand movement to his men hunkered down in the shadows. He led them past a gnarly piece of dead wood at the edge of the forest, all twisted and white. A cold breeze greeted the silent figures at the far end of the meadows. Billowing rain clouds scudded across the dark night sky. Over the brow of a hill, the troop of Missing had run silently away from Ragged Wood. They slipped through the pipe and into Area Seven, bypassing the light guard. They crawled through the snaking stream, slipped into gardens and then the cemetery. They ran in single file between the headstones. The double wrought iron gates at its entrance were firmly shut with rusting chains and a shiny, new padlock. The Missing silently helped each other over and formed in the lane. In twos, they ran toward the High Street with Steve Nobody in the lead.

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Attack

Down by the stream, Gronk amassed his Pinkshirts. The mission was to hit their enemy hard and round up the vagrants. Only a few guards were left along the perimeter fence. Gronk could feel the inevitability of victory. He ordered the men with dogs to the forefront and they accelerated away. He stood back and admired the way they hunted down the feeble Missing. His gallant forefather was a warrior and here he was. On the front line like a warrior of old, about to earn a self-awarded medal for bravery. A fighter mentality kick in as his soldiers ran past into the fray. Like all good military commanders, he would lead from the back. With his men safely between him and any danger, Gronk stepped into the dark forest like a canker.

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Stress

Hours later and twilight descended over the meadows. The woodland darkened. Steve watched as the searchlights in the watchtowers switched on, sweeping the shadows. Looking beyond, the electricity from the Good Side formed a glow in the sky. He scanned toward the right and no light came from the Wrong Side. His attention never wavered, but he was tired. Looking at his watch, it was approaching 10:00 p.m. Time to change. He shook Harry’s shoulder and woke him. They whispered briefly and Steve lay down to sleep.

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