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A curious sight awaited Toast and Althea. A dusty VW camper van decked out in a swirly paint job and ragged streamers.
Four old scavengers piled out and advanced in procession. One of them was about four feet tall.
Their escort of chalked and black-eyed Boys couldn’t seem to decide whether to maintain their default ‘imposing’ expressions or if it was okay to grin. They didn’t get this kind of entertainment every day.
The foremost, a tall man with receding, closely-cut sandy hair, made a sweeping bow to the assembly of watchers.
“People of the New Citadel, greetings! I am Magregor the Fabulist and these fine gentlemen are the Crusty Jugglers!”
"Er, what?" spluttered Toast. "Are you a bunch of clowns or something?"
At this point, Althea stepped forward, her brain having caught up with her eyes and ears.
"I remember you! You’re…” she stopped abruptly. “Oh Mothers…” she breathed, wide-eyed.
The tall man stared at her for a few seconds, her braids, the shawl round her neck. Then recognition dawned.
“The Green Place! You were there...! I knew it was real…you’re…gimme a second...you’re Donna’s little sister, right?
“Althea" she nodded.
“So we didn’t just dream the whole thing! We tried to find the place again but…” he made a despairing shrug. His companions nodded in agreement.
“We had to go…” she began, uncertainly.
"Where’s Mary? Is she here too?” He cut her off, looking round the gathering crowd of faces. “How did you end up here?"
Althea shook her head. This was going to be difficult.
“We had to move on, Zal…but Mary’s not…”
“Wait…hang on” Toast wasn’t called the Knowing for nothing. She’d been staring at the tall man with the green eyes, trying to figure out who he looked like.
“Noooo... This is Zal? This is…?”
Althea cut her off before she could say any more. “Yes, Toast…” she snapped.
*
“Book Man!” an excited voice cried out, much to Althea’s relief. She needed time to regroup.
A young girl was pelting towards the group, waving a thick paperback that had definitely seen better days. She slowed to a halt, and breathlessly handed the book to Zal, holding it reverently like a sacred artefact.
“I’ve finished it! Cheedo taught me. It didn’t take as long as I thought” she gasped, clutching at her side. “You can have it back now…”
Zal stared down at the book in his hands, then back at the girl. “It’s not...Dolores…?” A pleased but bewildered smile spread across his face. “You’re a bit taller than I remember…”
“Pa’s here too! They took us in, and they didn’t kill us or anything!” she beamed.
“I am very glad to hear it…” Zal managed, giving Dolores a hug and Althea a wide-eyed look over the girl’s shoulder.
“Does this mean you’ve found the garden?” came a voice from chest-height.
Zal cast his eyes over the green cascading over the rock face and laughed, awestruck. “I think you found it first…”
Althea took Zal by the shoulder and led him off to somewhere quieter, while Pups dashed off to get the visitors some water and food.
“Well, it's changed a bit here since I saw it last…”
“I don’t doubt it. You and me need to have a chat. Got thirty-odd years of catching up to do…”
*
Zal sat with his head in his hands. It had been a blow.
“She’s dead?” he echoed.
Althea nodded. “About twenty years ago…convoy ran into trouble on the road. I wasn’t there. There was sickness in the settlement…nothing serious…but I was home with the little ones. We lost a few that day. Mary, Donna, Nancy, Anna…” her voice tailed off. She didn’t want to tell it all at once.
“I’d always hoped to see her again” Zal continued, after a pause to remember the dead. His grief was small compared to the loss it must’ve been to the women at the Green Place.
“She talked about you…” Althea smiled.
“I asked her to come with us, you know?”
“I know, Fur…I heard” Nearly slipped out…
“I wanted to go back there, we all did. It was the most homey place we’d ever stopped. But it was too risky. We didn’t know if he was still after us. Didn’t want to bring trouble. When we finally made our minds up, we couldn’t find it again. I thought we’d maybe just imagined the whole thing.”
When our Furi gets back, you’ll know for sure you didn’t imagine it…
“Never forgot her…” Zal went on. “Wonder what would have happened if we’d stayed.”
“No point wishing for things to be different…” Althea fidgeted. “Drive you round the twist.”
Why’d it have to be me? Okay, time to get to the point…
“Zal, there’s more…she never forgot you either. Partly because you left her something to remember you by…”
“I haven’t anything catching, so…you mean…?” his eyes widened. “Did…is…?”
“A girl, and she grew up healthy. Katie took her on as initiate…she was a sharp one, that kid.”
“Your use of the past tense speaks volumes…” his voice was tight.
“No, no...she’s alive. Left here a few months ago. She’ll be back.”
“So…?” he urged her on.
“We lost her when she was still a child…that day on the road, she was taken.”
Zal groaned. Poor Mary. She’d have gone down fighting first…
“Next time we saw her, she was escaping this place. Near twenty years later. Seven in a War Rig. Looking for us. Four breeders, two of Joe’s army and a blood bag. Slaves all, but one was his Imperator.”
“And which one was she?” Zal breathed. What had they done to her?
Althea smiled, half-proud, half-sad. “Our Furiosa? She was the Imperator.”
*
A few weeks later…
The kids are busy kicking a ball around, having expanded the game of Subbuteo to a full-sized version, with the added advantage that any number could play at once. It was pretty chaotic, no participants entirely clear about which team they were playing for, and with upwards of thirty players on the pitch at any one time.
It was a chrome alternative to War.
One of them swings a foot wildly at the ball, hooks it badly and it bounces off the roof of the Interceptor just as it pulls up.
A voice yells shrilly "I said get your head over it!"
Toots cuts off abruptly mid-tirade and runs cheering towards the arrivals. Noticing something different about Furiosa, he skids to a halt and points a finger. "You've been making babies!" he shouts delightedly.
That wasn't quite the way they had planned the announcement to go.
*
Evading the onslaught of enquiring, congratulating and just plain nosy people, Max slips away. It wasn’t just to avoid the attention.
As they’d pulled up, they'd observed that full-size Subbuteo wasn't the only current craze.
Max was pretty sure he recognised the stocky figure teaching a handful of the older Pups knife-throwing.
As he edged closer to get a better look, he saw the thrower turn towards Furiosa surrounded by her crowd of well-wishers. The small man’s eyes widened and he called to an imposing figure lounging nearby.
“Jerome! Get Zal. His daughter's here."
*
Max turned back hurriedly back towards the their car…he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d begun to think of it as their car…to…well, to give her a bit of warning.
She already looked a bit frazzled by the welcoming committee…this would be a shock.
But she’d followed him, no doubt equally curious about what had been going on since they went questing.
Furiosa stopped when she saw the knife-thrower pack up his blades and dart off towards the steps to the higher regions.
“Max…does that man look like a dwarf to you?”
“Bit rude…” he teased.
“You know what I mean”
“Furi…” Max pointed after the departing man with his thumb. “They're here. You were right, it's...”
And here they came. Althea, Toast, Cheedo and her shadow Dolores, veritably dragging a tall man in their wake. The knife-thrower trotted alongside, giving what looked like a pep talk to his pale companion.
Furiosa took a deep breath and squeezed Max’s hand. “Can’t believe this…”
“You alright?”
She nodded. “Stay?”
“I’ll be here”
*
“You’re Mary Jabassa’s daughter?”
“You knew my mother?”
“For three days, thirty-three years ago.”
She nodded, extended a hand. He took it.
“You know how she died? They’ve told you?”
“They told their story. I was hoping you might tell me yours.”
“Will you go first? I’ve wondered for so long.”
“Well, Karl here…his father used to own a carnival, before the End of the World…what’s a carnival? Well…”
*
They’d gathered quite a crowd by sunset. The news that the Boss was having a pup was a sensation in itself, and more and more people had gathered to see Furiosa meet her father.
At the centre of the circle, the father and daughter were talking animatedly, while the others alternately listened in and chatted amongst themselves.
*
They compared notes, more often than not. The Old Green Place, Miss Giddy, their common enemy himself...
“What have you been doing all these years?” Furiosa asked. “Avoiding Joe, I know, but…”
“Mainly trying to get back to the Green Place. Some Green Place, anyway. Thought your folks might be there. Made for here when we heard he’d been killed…”
At the look on Furiosa’s face, Karl nudged his friend. “And you were worried you wouldn’t have anything in common!”
*
“Ah, it’s Cardenio!" exclaimed Karl the knife thrower, spotting Max lurking in the lengthening shadows. "Zal, you remember?"
“Ah! The Ragged Knight...!" Dolores, sitting with Cheedo and Ace, looked wise.
Zal tapped his nose and pointed towards her in congratulation.
Max grunted a little in acknowledgement. "I know you. Bartertown."
"And you helped out a stranger in distress, for which I thank you" Karl bowed his head graciously.
Furiosa felt a proper introduction was overdue. "This is Max. He's..."
"Your special friend. The young entertainer kindly filled us in."
He’d heard him called ‘Boss’s Man’, ‘Fool’, ‘Blood Bag’, ‘the boy’ and ‘Feral’, but Zal had been particularly tickled by Toots’ account of his encounter with Dad Max and Mother Fury. So that was the name that stuck. Which was fortunate, really.
Zal clambered to his feet and stepped towards Max with a hand out to shake, but this abruptly became a bear hug. Many of their audience smiled at the sight. Max was not typically comfortable with tactile people, but he was clearly making an effort in this case.
*
Thus reluctantly drawn into the inner circle, Max wordlessly nudged Furiosa onto the topic of their quest. How they had chased Zal and his crew hither and thither across the Wasteland, following the trail of chaos they left in their wake.
They were much entertained. And Max was enlightened as to a few of their special effects. Including how to give your ride a convincing but temporary ‘unsalvageable wreck’ look.
“Nearly forgot…we’ve got a pile of documents in the car. Got ‘em from your…” Furiosa’s statement was terminated prematurely by her involuntary but jaw-cracking yawn. Wow...tired.
And Max was sagging slightly where he sat.
“Hmph, where is the car?” he looked around in consternation.
“Oh, I let some of the Boys drive her in.”
Max made a pained noise in his throat.
“Special occasion?” she suggested. He relented with a sleepy shrug. Hard to argue with that.
What now? Indoors, probably. That’d feel strange, after these months under the sky. Definitely food, though. He brightened at the thought. Lizard jerky tended to pall after a while.
*
“Can I call you Dad?” she asked, almost an afterthought.
He laughed incredulously. “Can I call you Daughter?”
“If you like, but my friends call me Furi. Or…um…” seeing Ace’s pointed stare as he paced alongside “…Boss.”
She was a little embarrassed at this admission. It sounded a bit funny, when she said it out loud.
*
“So, how’d you two meet?" asked Karl, conversationally, as they walked stiffly towards the refectory. They’d been sitting on the ground way too long, on top of the long drive.
Furiosa raised an eyebrow at Max and inclined her head, inviting him to answer that one.
“Hmm...I stole her Rig with a broken shotgun." In response to her look, he added “…well, moved it a coupla hundred yards maybe…”
“After I tried to stave his head in with a pair of boltcutters."
“That’s cute. Love at first sight then?" Karl replied.
*
“Boys doing well with the, uh…” Max pantomimed throwing a knife.
The straw sacks were pretty ragged in what would be vital areas to anyone with imagination.
Karl grinned proudly. Words were unnecessary in this case.
“I could have done with some of your training when I was younger” Furiosa mused, chin on hand as they sat over the crumbs of their meal. “Learned an important lesson about knives back then...Don't throw them unless you know it'll kill. Otherwise they're pissed off. And they've got your knife."
"Ain't that the truth…" Karl nodded, and turned to Max "That's pretty much how it went off that time in Bartertown, if you remember..."
Max sees Furiosa's fingers stray unconsciously to her right side, where her longest scar was hidden. He caught her eye and she responded with a kind of half-shrug, half-nod. Her own story was old news. There was a more interesting tale to hear right now.
*
But curled up in the car that night, Furiosa gave Max the details...
She'd managed to hit the target about three times out of five back in the Green Place. That'd seemed pretty good, back then. This was not one of the lucky tries, especially with the shaking hand of someone who thinks their life will depend on it.
She…the War Boy Cog…was fourteen. She had led her team of cadets to victory in that day's training exercise, as she had many times before. Unfortunately, this time, Bonzo decided he'd had the piss taken out of him one time too many.
He and his goons confronted her in the washroom. It wasn't to be a regular beating. This would be humiliation, followed by several months in the Blood Shed. She couldn't let that happen. So she pretended to be down, beaten.
Bonzo stepped back to consider his next move. She took the opportunity to grab her knife by its tip and throw it with all her strength. But, regrettably, not all her accuracy.
Her arms pinned, he slowly and deliberately sliced the tip of the knife...her knife, which makes it doubly painful…down her right side, from collarbone to the bottom of her ribs.
Almost blinded by pain and desperation, she kicked out . He staggered back, lost his footing and smashed his head open on a metal pipe.
She sobbed in the darkness. At the blood, at the pain, the shock.
At the knowledge that she's almost certainly just killed someone.
Fumbling in her many pockets for needle and thread, she fixed herself as best she could.
*
It’s never a great idea to relive old traumas last thing at night. The images would once have haunted her sleep for certain.
But...
…that was then, and this is now... tomorrow will be about the future…
That was the thought she hugged to herself as she drifted off. There were no nightmares.