BENJAMIN and Mark stared long at the ruins of Samuel’s house, fearing the worst.

“Father’s housekeeper said in her letter, she’d fled from the house and taken refuge in her sister’s place, across the village. We’ll call in there,” said Benjamin, with fear in his voice.

The housekeeper, when they met her, was almost too terrified to speak—but she was relieved to see Benjamin and more relieved to see that he was unharmed. After some coaxing, they managed to persuade her to describe the terrible incidents of a few days before—but there was little she could add to what she’d written. The Blue­blacks had returned some time later, so a neighbour had reported, and set torches to the house, but she thought Samuel was no longer with them. She feared the worst. And no: the neighbour hadn’t noticed in which direction they’d gone.

Benjamin and Mark debated for a while what they could do about it. Unless they could find the raiders’ tracks, they’d have little chance of pursuing them. And, sadly, Samuel must be presumed dead—though Benjamin was slow to accept that possibility.

They thought their best option was to rest up for the night, and then set out back for Rigo. This was a job for the Police, not them, and the sooner they reported it the better. The housekeeper’s sister agreed to put them up, if they didn’t mind sleeping on the floor.

However, in the morning, they decided to spend some time care­fully searching the ground outside Samuel’s burnt-out house, in case they discovered anything. And it was not long before Mark—the experienced hunter of the two—spotted faint but quite definite hoof-prints running along a narrow, almost invisible trail, which led into some woods close to the village. This looked quite promising, so they started to follow the trail on foot, leading their horses.

After a while they entered the forest and the trail became harder to follow. Mark suggested that, as the more experienced woodsman, he should go ahead on foot to see if he could discover anything, while Benjamin remained behind with the horses.

As he followed what he could make out of the trail, after a short distance it became easier to see once again, and Mark could see signs that something heavy had been dragged along the ground. He paused for a moment by a large tree to relieve himself; then after buttoning himself up, he looked up and a ghastly sight met his eyes.

Hanging in a noose slung over a branch was the body of a man. A Black man, middle-aged, naked and horribly bruised and beaten with cuts all over his body. He had been mutilated around the groin area. Mark turned away, bent over and vomited. Then he collected himself and stumbled back to where Benjamin was waiting.

One look told Benjamin all. “You’ve found him, haven’t you. Take me to him.”

“Please don’t,” gasped Mark. “You don’t want to see him. You really don’t.”

“For Heaven’s sake, Mark, I’m a doctor. I’ve seen many things. Nasty things. If it’s Father, and if he’s dead, I’ve a right to see him. I’ve got to see him.”

So they walked slowly back to where the big tree stood, leading one of the horses. Benjamin nodded when he saw the body, but he kept his composure better than Mark had, although tears were running down his face. He ordered Mark to climb onto his shoulders, and reaching up, Mark was able to cut the rope and the body slid to the ground. They wrapped it in a blanket, slung it across the horse, and made their way sorrowfully back towards the village.

“It’s called a ‘lynching’,” remarked Benjamin dully. “It used to happen to my folk in the Old People’s time: Peter did some research on these matters, and showed Father and me the papers. First it was slavery, for many generations. Then we stopped being slaves, but there was still persecution for over a century. And lynchings. Did they hate us back then, because they thought we were Mutants—or did they hate us just because our skin’s a different colour to theirs? Probably that last: I’ve always been told there were no Mutants in the Old People’s days. But Labrador’s not safe for my folk any more. Nor is it safe for Laura and the children. And they’ll be going after Michael and his family soon.” He fell silent, with much to ponder.

There was no Sheriff in the small village of Palukaat, nor was there an inn, but the local storekeeper, when he learnt about the tragedy, agreed to send a messenger at once to summon the Sheriff from a nearby village. The Sheriff, when he arrived later that day with one of his deputies, was brisk and businesslike.

“So you two found the remains, did you? And you’re the victim’s son, I understand?” he said, addressing Benjamin, who nodded. “My deepest sympathies. I didn’t know Samuel well, living in the next village, like, but I was here after the attack on his house. How my men missed the trail you found, I don’t know.”

The Sheriff softened his tone. “What I do know is that he was well liked and respected by everyone here, and his loss will be keenly felt. I hope that is some comfort to you. What a terrible thing! What the world is coming to, I find hard to believe. Everything was so calm and orderly until a few weeks ago. Then these young hoodlums, these ‘Blueblacks’ as they call themselves, started prowling around. This is not the first senseless murder I’ve been called out to. And I fear it won’t be the last.”

Mark related the salient points of Ruffer’s speech in the Chamber, and the Sheriff nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard some reports of that. What can that man be thinking of? We hardly get any Deviations in these parts: I’ve been told that it’s mostly places close to the Fringes that suffer. We have an Inspector, but he covers several districts and he’s hardly kept busy at that. What’s the world coming to?”

“It was bad where I come from, out West,” replied Mark. “Some friends of mine were murdered, even before Ruffer’s time. And there was plenty of persecution.”

“Well, I guess that sort of attitude is going to spread all over Labrador. Won’t make my job any easier, I can tell you. Now, I’ve got to transport the remains to the nearest town where there’s a doctor, who’ll examine them—and then he can be given a decent burial in the churchyard there. You can advise on that, Benjamin. Are there any other relatives besides you?”

“I have an uncle and two aunts, in Rigo: Father’s brother and sisters. The only ones I know about.”

“I’ll take a message back to them, if you give me their addresses,” interrupted Mark, drawing Benjamin to one side. “You’ll want to stay with your father, make sure he gets a proper burial. But I’ll make haste back to Rigo and break the news to Michael and the others. Michael and Rachel will be upset: they met your father in Rigo. I’ll try to get through to Laura too: give me a letter for her. And be careful!”

“Yes, that would be very kind of you,” said Benjamin. “Stay one night, and then set off in the morning. I’ll give you some letters. I’ll stay with Father until he’s laid to rest: the least I can do. The Sheriff will probably be sending for a covered wagon to transport him: I can stay hid in that. Then after the burial I’ll try and make my way to Peter’s house in Ragnarok. I’m worried about him—he and Father were good friends.”

Benjamin fell silent for a minute or two: it was clear that he had something else on his mind, but wasn’t sure whether to speak out. At length he made up his mind and spoke:

“You’re telepaths, aren’t you? All four of you. Am I right?”

“Partially right. I suppose you must have guessed—and Laura too. I’m a poor example of one, now, very short range: I was better at it before but lost most of the faculty after an illness. Michael and Rachel are very good at it though. Stephanie wasn’t born one, but she’s developing the technique. I suppose she’s nearly at the same level as me.”

“I’ve known about Peter’s telepathic powers, and Justin’s, and the other couple in Ragnarok, for some time now, so it wasn’t hard to guess about Michael and Rachel. I think Father knew too, though he never spoke of it. Your secret is safe enough with Laura and me—but don’t go spreading it around! It puts you all in more danger of course. If you have to flee Rigo, look for me at Ragnarok. Michael and Rachel know the way. Take my horse for now: Michael’s going to need it: I’ll try to get another for my journey.”

So in the morning, Mark bade farewell to Benjamin, wondering whether they would ever see each other again, and made the best speed he could back to Rigo. He was leading Michael’s horse alongside his own, but swapping horses from time to time. He managed the journey in two days.

When he broke the sad news to Michael, Rachel and Stephanie, they were shocked, but it was soon plain that there were other things on their minds.

“It’s war out there, in the city,” said Michael. “Total anarchy. So much for Ruffer’s ‘promises’ of peace and order! Blueblacks rampaging everywhere, beating up people in the streets: Black, Brown, Inuit, anyone they think doesn’t ‘belong’. And smashing up and burning their houses, their shops, their businesses too. Some folks, some of the decent folks of Rigo, I mean, have been fighting back, but most people are just too scared. There have been a number of people killed and even more injured. The hospital is overwhelmed. Poor Laura’s overstretched, as are all the nurses and doctors. Which reminds me…”

He pulled open a trapdoor and led the way down into the cellar which was brightly lit with several lanterns, and with a fire burning in the grate. The first thing Mark noticed was a large bed made up out of a straw mattress laid on a large rug. Then he spotted, hiding in the dark corners, three little girls. When they saw Michael and Mark, they ran forward, giggling.

“Yes, we’re looking after Benjamin’s and Laura’s children: it’s safer for them, in hiding here, rather than at their own house. Laura’s sleeping out at the hospital. Their house has already been broken into and ransacked, but at least it’s still standing and intact—possibly because the looters didn’t find any ‘Mutants’ hiding there. A neigh­bour told us that some of the Blueblacks have been billeted there.

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“They haven’t come on to our house yet—but we’re afraid. Going into the city is not safe any more. And Hilary’s been thrown into jail. We’re afraid for her too.”

“But I’ve got to go into town. I’ve got letters for Laura—and Samuel’s brother and sisters. I simply must break the news and get these letters to them—especially Laura. She’ll be in a panic about Benjamin.”

“Well, it’d better be you: I might be recognised. But wait until morning. And be careful—and don’t take the gun. There’s an order gone out that anyone seen carrying a gun in the city is to be shot.”

“I’ll need a cover story, in case I’m stopped.”

“Hmmm… well, you could take a basket. Buy some food on the way, if you find any shops still open. Say you’re on the way to see your aunt, see if she’s all right, take her some food. You could use the name and address of our old landlady, Mrs Norman, as your ‘aunt’. Best I can think of.”

So in the morning, Mark set out on foot for the city. Although much still seemed as normal, quiet and orderly, there were signs of the rampage here and then: the odd house wrecked, shops broken into and looted, broken glass strewn along the street. He even passed a few dead bodies lying in the street: no-one, it seemed, attending to them. He had memorised the directions for Samuel’s sisters who were the nearest: they were two elderly spinster ladies sharing a house—but when he came closer he saw at once that his mission was fruitless. A whole row of small houses had been set on fire, and there were several corpses in the street: all Black and all men (to his relief). He briefly inspected the burnt-out embers of the house where the sisters had lived, and the neighbouring houses, but to no avail.

Mark wondered whether he dare continue to the brother’s home: he was married and kept a small grocery in the north of the city. But Mark had not yet been accosted by the Blueblacks, although he had once or twice seen a gang of them swaggering through the streets, looking for victims to attack. He had kept well clear and looked away from them.

When he reached the grocer’s shop it was still intact, although the door had been wrenched off its hinges and there was evidence of looting. He went inside but there was no-one about. He called out the brother’s name several times, without any response. Then a small noise behind him made him jerk round in fright, but it was only a small white girl who had wandered into the shop.

“If you’re looking for the old Black man who’s here, he ain’t here, he’s gone. Mummy says he’s run away along of his missus. There’s no-one here.”

“Could you take me to your Mummy?”

“Mummy’s out. I dunno when she’ll be back.”

Mark decided he had no choice but to abandon this errand too. There was only Laura left. Wearily he retraced his steps and made towards the hospital.

As he came nearer there were more gangs of Blueblacks about: some on horseback, some on foot, but he was allowed to pass until he reached the hospital entrance. There, he met a group of Blueblacks barring the way.

“No-one’s allowed in without a permit. If you don’t have one, please state your business,” said their apparent leader.

Mark had to think quickly. He made up a story of wanting to visit a friend who was ill in hospital, giving a fictitious name for this friend in the hope that it wouldn’t be checked. But to his dismay the leader said “Wait here. I’ll go in and check. If he’s still in the hospital I’ll be back with a permit for you.”

What was Mark to do now? There were six of them, and he was alone: no hope of fighting his way out! He was almost resigning himself to arrest and possible torture, when relief came in a most unexpected way. A group of about twenty middle-aged men armed with sticks appeared down the road and approached. Clearly these were not Blueblacks; they were dressed in the ordinary attire of Rigo citizens, and they were clearly out to drive off the Blueblacks as best they could. One of the Blueblacks drew out a revolver and fired, and one of the approaching men fell, but the others continued. They now produced guns of their own and several shots were fired. More men, and one of the Blueblacks, fell. Mark took advantage of the mêlée to make his escape: he dashed unobserved down a street that ran along the side of the hospital.

As he was running he heard his name called, and looking up, saw to his astonishment a young woman leap out of a first-floor window, landing in some bushes below, scratched but apparently unharmed. Struggling to her feet she rushed out, seized Mark by the arm, and dragged him behind the bushes, where they both crouched down.

It was Laura!

“Oh Mark! I’m so relieved to see you. It’s been a nightmare in there: I’ve had to go into hiding in the hospital. Those Blueblack thugs have overrun the place, they’re out seeking out suspects and they’ve enlisted some of the other nurses and doctors into their cause. I’m marked down because I’m married to a Black man—a ‘Mutant’ in their language. But perhaps now I’m with you I can escape. Best if you pretend you’re my husband or something.”

She was wearing a long thick woollen coat, but she quickly took this off, then stripped off her nurse’s dress. Mark blushed and turned away, but he realised the urgency of this and waited while she wrapped herself back in the coat, scrunched her dress and nurse’s cap into a tight ball and hid them under a pile of leaves beneath the bush, as best she could. Then she produced a pair of scissors and handed them to Mark.

“Cut my hair—quick! Cut it short, turn me into a tomboy almost. I hate to lose it, but it’s for the best. I mustn’t be recognised.” So Mark did his best, and then they hid Laura’s lovely tresses, and the scissors, under the leaves as well.

“Now let’s walk close together, like lovers, with our arms around one another. I just hope that’ll fool them. And please tell me what’s happened. I know Ben and you set out for Ben’s dad, but I don’t know any more.”

“It’s bad news I’m afraid,” said Mark, hesitantly. “Samuel’s dead. Murdered by those thugs. Benjamin’s all right—or at least he was all right when I parted from him. I’ve got a letter for you.”

“Oh no!” cried Laura, tears starting from her eyes as she buried her face in Mark’s shoulder. “He was such a lovely, gentle old man, we all loved him. But perhaps it’s best he died quickly like this. He wouldn’t have wanted to live through scenes like we’ve been having here.” And she took the letter and read it through.

“So Ben’s staying with Samuel’s body, until the burial,” she continued. “Perhaps he’s safer there than he would be, coming back here. There isn’t a single Black doctor or nurse left in the hospital: they’ve all either fled or been done in. When shall I see him again?” she wailed.

“Who can tell? But we mustn’t give up hope. Your girls are all right. We’d best go to meet up with them, and Stephanie and the others.”

So they progressed slowly through the streets towards Michael’s house, doing their best to look like lovers or newly-weds. At one point they turned a corner and encountered a group of Blueblacks, who were lounging about apparently doing nothing. One of them called out.

“Hey, pretty lady! Stop wasting your time with that creep! Come and join us, we can all give ourselves a good time. Come along!” And he started after them. Laura and Mark could think of nothing better than to break into a run, but Laura was encumbered by the heavy coat with only her underwear beneath. There was no chance of outrunning their pursuer.

However, the man in command of the little group promptly ordered him back. It seemed that there was still a level of military discipline amongst the Blueblacks! Mark had caught a glimpse of short yellow hair showing from beneath the cap worn by the officer, who looked lean and drawn. He wondered. Laura had not seen him.

As they turned another corner, they came upon a shameful sight. A group of Blueblacks were laying into an elderly man, of Inuit appear­ance, lying on the ground groaning. They were kicking and clubbing him. Nearby, an elderly woman, possibly his wife, was sitting in the road whimpering. She too had cuts and bruises about her face. Broken glass was strewn everywhere. Laura and Mark, horrified, beat a hasty retreat.

At last they reached Michael’s and Rachel’s home, luckily without further molestation. Laura was warmly embraced by the others, and the three little girls were summoned upstairs. On seeing their mother, they made a dash for her, then stopped in bewilderment.

“Mummy! You’ve changed!” cried the eldest. “Your hair…”

“I’ve had it cut, that’s all. Everyone has to get a haircut some time. But I’m still the same Mummy underneath, my darlings.”

And with that she swept them into her arms and gave them a big hug. But in a moment she released them and beckoned to Stephanie.

“I need to put something on,” she whispered. “You’re about my size, Stephanie, could I borrow one of your dresses?” And Stephanie led her into the bedroom.

Once they were more or less settled in and eating a hasty lunch, there were urgent things to discuss.

“We’ve got to make a run for it,” began Mark. “Every one of us. Now I’ve seen what you’ve seen. If we stay in Rigo we’re dead. I’m sure of it. And I’m a marked man too. Those thugs outside the hos­pital, they stopped me and I had to run for it. I’d be recognised…”

“But how? Where?” wailed Rachel. “The harbour will be watched: surely we’ve no chance of getting aboard ship—even if there are any ships sailing. And there’s little William, and the girls.”

“Inland, it has to be,” said Mark, calmly. To Peter’s house, we must try and find Benjamin, find out if he made it there. That’s the only lead we have.”

“But we have only three horses, and there are nine of us!” pleaded Rachel. “Can’t you count? Five adults, three children and one infant. We can’t all go inland.”

“But we must stay together,” said Michael. “Mark’s right: that’s the direction they’ll least expect us to take. Towards the more ‘God-fearing’ parts out West.”

“So you really think we can all ride on just three horses?” said Laura, half mockingly. “Who’s going to sit where? I’m not much of a rider myself, perhaps I should dangle from the horse’s tail? And Lucy here,” (indicating her eldest daughter), “she’s been on a pony, but never a full-sized horse. On me, piggy-back then?” (Lucy’s eyes lit up on hearing the chance of a ride, and she giggled, but Laura quickly silenced her and continued): “And the others!…”

“Please, Laura, remember this is important, I’m serious about this,” intervened Michael. “Remember, I’ve done a lot of carpentry work—so has Mark. We’ve a fair amount of timber around the house: we could knock together a cart. It’ll take a couple of days, if we survive that long—but it’s our only chance. I’ve mended a broken cart before now—” (with a wink at Stephanie). “The main difficulty is the wheels. A lot of work goes into them, I’ve not much experience as a wheelwright, and we can do without a broken wheel midway through our journey…”

“There are broken and overturned carts all over Rigo,” put in Mark. “Perhaps we could salvage something?”

“Good thinking. We’ll go and have a look, you and I. But we must be cautious—we’re getting used to that! We’ll take all three horses and some tools. The rest of you, all of you, go down into the cellar and shut the trap-door: make it look as if the house is empty. Wait there until we return.”