The Wishing Tree

The steam-engines rumbled through the steel fortress of Ferrum Vates, the
“made-city” of the world, and the commuters rocked gently with
the rhythm of the tracks. They glanced at their timepieces and
occasionally gazed out to the ochre-coloured sky. With briefcases in
hands, they bade their separate ways. Some people turned to the tram
lines, others took to the side walks, and caught glass elevators to
their corporate offices, whilst others, still, went by unnoticed; the
ones that society had forgot.

It was there, beneath the train station on the East quarter, in the litter
and rust and decay, that a small congregation of street thieves had
formed to boast of their morning's efforts. Krumpkin, youngest in the
group, strutted into the concealed stowaway, his tattered knapsack
overstuffed and emanating a glorious aroma. The other three were
waiting for him, their packs already emptied out on the dining table,
a crude construction of scrap metal on stolen concrete bricks.

“Ah, about time, Krumpkin!” said Erik, who had been pacing around the
table constantly, much to the annoyance of Timoth and Greer. “We
were starting to worry you had been catching up with... her,
again”.

Krumpkin sighed, “I still can't see what you think is wrong with her, I mean it's not as if she's one of 'them'-”

“Krumpkin, come on! Think for one moment! For all we know, she could
be one of them. She could tell the city guards, they could follow you
back here and we'd all be fed to the Lordship's jaguar along with the
rats.” Erik was fuming.

He flared up like this every time Krumpkin was late, when he noticed
Krumpkin travelling on the trams, or when he brought back freshly
baked food from her instead of thieving anonymously, like the others.

Erik eyed Krumpkin's knapsack suspiciously. “So, what tasty morsels
have you brought back this morning, Krumpkin?”

He received no vocal response; only a purse-lipped shoe gaze that
indicated that Krumpkin was too proud to confess his 'wrong-doings'
to Erik. The silence was intense, and it wasn't until Krumpkin threw
his knapsack at Erik's feet and climbed back out of the stowaway that
Erik allowed himself to resume his breath. At his feet, Krumpkin's
bag had burst open, and fresh scones had tumbled innocently out.

Timoth and Greer both got to their feet and rounded on Erik.

“What did you do that for?!” Greer spoke with a deep disapproval
towards Erik.

“See what he brought back for us?” Erik replied, nudging the
scones at his feet. “How can we trust him, and how can we trust
this woman he so regularly visits?”

“Erik... he trusts her, and we should trust him. He's a good
kid, he wouldn't turn against us. And besides, we need him. He's one
of us, after all.” This time Timoth spoke.

Erik sighed “Yes, I know he means well. I just feel like he'll
bring trouble upon us sooner or later, whether he means to or not. I
mean, she could have poisoned the food, she could have told the city
guards, there's just no knowing what she's done.”

“What benefits does she have of turning over four worthless street
thieves? We're of no value to the guards” said Greer.

“Greer, if the guards see she's affiliated with a group of street
thieves, they won't just kill us, they'd kill her too. Turning us in
may be her only option.” Erik rubbed his hands down the back of his
neck and started pacing again.

“Look, she could have told the guards, but she hasn't done so yet.
She could have poisoned the food, but we're all still alive! Even if
she could have done those things, it still doesn't excuse you
for attacking Krumpkin like that!” Timoth gave Erik a hard nudge
towards the entrance of the stowaway. “Now, go find Krumpkin, and
apologise.”

“Okay, fine!” Erik said begrudgingly, and pulled himself up and
out onto the street.

Erik spotted Krumpkin a little way off, walking along beneath the
train line. The trams still periodically ran down the streets, the
trains still rocked forth. Above the trains, cable carriages flung
themselves rapidly from one side of the city to the other, and above
them still were the elegant blimps coming in and out of Ferrum Vates
(or merely passing by). Those blimps were the only contact with the
outside world this city had ever known, for the city walls had been
raised to the heavens in the early days, with no doors or windows to
clamber through. Erik and Krumpkin, and Timoth and Greer had all
dreamt of what lay outside the walls, what it would be like to ride
in the Lordship's magnificent blimps and to view the rest of the
world with infant eyes, but they had learned long ago that there was
no escape from the city, they could only hide and pray they remain
unseen.

Erik started off after Krumpkin to make his apology, but
Krumpkinseemed very driven, and was moving along at quite a pace, a
pace of which Erik almost had to run to keep Krumpkin in his sight.
He followed Krumpkin along the path beneath the tracks, across roads,
around street corners, through alleys and over fences. Krumpkin
seemed to have singled out exactly where he was going, as he moved
with deliberation and assurance, and Erik began to doubt Krumpkin
again. He was going to see her again, he was going to tell her about
Erik and his suspicions of her. She would laugh a nervous laugh and
the next morning, the city guards would be throwing Krumpkin's body
down the rubbish pit and searching for the other three. Erik let
these thoughts linger for a moment longer, but when he came out into
the next street, Krumpkin was nowhere to be found.

And then Erik saw the misplaced manhole cover that ought not to have
been misplaced. He ran over to the hole and placed his head through.
Although he couldn't see Krumpkin, he could definitely hear the
distinct sound of sloshing footsteps. He plunged down into the filth
and ran off down to where he thought the sounds came from. The stench
of the waste-water burned his nostrils, and he wanted so badly to
return to the considerably fresher air of the above-ground, but he
knew he was gaining on Krumpkin, his splashing was a lot louder,
closer. Erik followed the sound through the maze of pipes in the
city's intricate waste-system, until Krumpkin's feet could not be
heard at all, only a weak, lonely whimper.

Erik slowed as he rounded the corner to see a rather distraught
Krumpkin slumped against a little pipe insert, blocked by a valve
hatch.

“What do you want?” spat Krumpkin, choking slightly on his tears.

“Hey... I just came to say,” Erik paused for a moment to take a
deep breath, “that I'm sorry”.

“You know, I didn't get those scones from her” Krumpkin said,
wiping tears from his cheek. “I found them cooling on a windowsill
when I was making my way home.”

“Oh,” Erik said, slightly taken aback.

“Hey Erik, I...” Krumpkin took a moment to find his words. “I
was going to tell you all something when I came back today; I think I
found a way out of the city. That's why I was gone for so long.”

“Krumpkin, really?!” Erik beamed. “Where?” His curiosity
sparkled as the childhood dreams came flushing black.

“Right here.” Krumpkin aimed his thumb casually at the hatch that
lay behind him “although I wasn't able to pull it open.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? You and I, let's open this hatch!”
Erik leapt past Krumpkin and grasped the wheel on the door and
attempted to wrench it around.

Krumpkin got to his feet and joined Erik in the struggle. The wheel
had definitely been shut tight, but as sweat dripped from their
foreheads and their palms grew red raw from the friction, something
began to give. And once the wheel started turning, it really
started turning, and the two insignificant street thieves pushed the
door out to a view of immaculate fields as far as the eye could see,
and the golden brown sun on the horizon, framed the silhouette of an
age old tree in the distance. Krumpkin stepped through the portal,
and for the first time in his life, he was free.

He turned around to pull Erik through, but it seemed that Erik had
heard something, as he hesitated for a moment. And then Krumpkin
heard it too, footsteps.

Then, in an authoritative voice, someone called out, “halt!”. The
city guards had tracked them down.

Krumpkin urged Erik to hurry through, but he just shook his head and
closed the hatch. Krumpkin stood on the other side of the wall and
listened to the sound of the wheel turning back around. And then a
loud, piercing gunshot, echoing through the pipes. Krumpkin turned
his back on Ferrum Vates and walked through the fields towards the
tree. He approached it at the pique of sunset, its frame decorated in
rich colours of gold and scarlet and violet. In the fast approaching
darkness, Krumpkin recited a hymn of mourning for his dear friend,
Erik.
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Author's note: Soon to become a full length Novella/Novel