The Search Party

by Simon Lelic

  “Look. There. Is that . . .”

  Fleet circled the trunk and crouched down next to her. They looked where Nicky was pointing, and then at each other. Nicky struggled with the zip of her waterproof, and pulled out a pen. She used it to nudge what at first glance Fleet had assumed was a leaf.

  “A Snickers wrapper,” he said, realizing what he was looking at.

  “Duo,” Nicky added, and she raised an eyebrow.

  Fleet stood. He looked up, around, and then back down at the base of the chestnut tree.

  “If it had been here before, the search teams would almost certainly have bagged it,” Nicky said. “Meaning they either missed it, or one of the PCs dropped it themselves . . .”

  “Not likely,” put in Fleet.

  “Or,” Nicky concluded, “someone else dropped it after the search teams had already cleared the area.”

  Fleet tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking of the feeling he’d had of being watched; of Sadie’s friends wondering whether they were being followed . . .

  “Should we call someone?” said Nicky. But even as she asked, Fleet could tell she was thinking the same thing he was. And say what? Show them what? If the pay-as-you-go wasn’t going to change Burton’s mind, a piece of litter was hardly going to do it.

  Fleet looked around once more, and had to fight an urge to call out into the trees. He knew it would be pointless. Worse than that, it would be like trying to entice a deer with a rifle shot.

  Are you out there? he wondered. Are you watching right now?

  Nicky was busy transferring the Snickers wrapper into a clear plastic evidence bag.

  “Have you got another one of those?” Fleet asked her, as he fished inside his own jacket pockets. He took out one of his business cards and a pen.

  “Sure,” said Nicky, frowning slightly. She passed him a spare evidence bag.

  There was an old tree stump close by, and Fleet turned to it. He bent down, and for a second allowed the pen to hover before he started to write. Then he slid the business card into the evidence bag, and placed it on top of the stump in what he hoped was clear view.

  Nicky was watching the whole time, her frown deepening.

  “I haven’t got a better idea,” said Fleet, shrugging. “Have you?”

  MASON

  NO ONE COULD argue after that. After it started raining, I mean. There were no more excuses, no more petty reasons to give up and go home. Which didn’t stop them looking for one—I could see it in their eyes—and I suppose I should have realized they’d come up with something eventually, but in the meantime, what exactly could they say?

  “If I were you I’d get out your water bottle,” I told Abi, who was staring at me like I’d summoned the rain myself, just to keep her out there. “You never know how long it’s going to last.”

  Which, after a minute, is what she did. It’s what we all did. We opened our mouths, too, tipping our heads back and shutting our eyes. It was a proper end-of-summer downpour, thick and heavy, so there was no problem catching the drops. They were big as berries, bursting in your mouth the moment they hit the back of your throat. I swear to God, they even tasted sweet. I’d been so focused on being pissed-off at Abi’s moaning, I’d forgotten how thirsty I was myself. I even started grinning. I couldn’t help it. And when I’d had my fill, I looked around, and I realized the others were grinning, too. Cora, at least. Fash, as well. Abi was still gobbling up raindrops, her eyes screwed tight and her hair plastered to her forehead, but even Luke twitched a smile when he caught my eye. His hair was stuck to his head, too, the rain all running into his eyes, but it was like, no one cared, you know? Just the opposite. After the heat, and the dust, and fucking everything since the start of the summer, all any of us felt at that moment was relief.

  “Jesus,” said Fash. He had to shout to get anyone to hear him, because the rain was coming down that heavily. “When was the last time it actually rained? And like this.”

  I spread my hands and raised my head again. It was like that scene in that old prison movie. The Shawshank Redemption. Have you seen it? There’s this bit, when Andy Dufresne crawls through the tunnel of shit, and then he gets out the other side and he realizes he’s free, finally, and the rain, it’s coming down in ropes, just like it was out there in the woods, and the guy, Andy, who’s completely innocent, by the way, he takes off his shirt and he spreads his arms and he’s standing there like he’s Jesus Christ or something, like it’s an actual religious experience he’s having. Which I guess is exactly what it is.

  But my point is, that was me. Just for a minute. It was as though the rain was washing away all the shit that had stuck to me as well. The shit people had thrown at me since Sadie went missing. The shit you started.

  And then it hit me. Because with Andy, in the film, it’s the beginning of the end. You know, just before he disappears to go and live on a desert island, or on a beach in Mexico or wherever. Me, I was still in the same old place, still stuck in the middle of a nightmare with no prospect of ever waking up. It only took me about thirty seconds to remember that. To realize that the rain wasn’t actually going to wash away anything.

  “Dude,” said a voice at my shoulder. I hadn’t noticed Fash move up beside me. “Are you, like, crying?” he said. He spoke quietly, and he’d turned his back on the others, who were busy filling up their water bottles. His hand moved toward my shoulder, like he meant to comfort me or something, and I shrugged it away. Right at that moment, Fash was the last person I wanted trying to make me feel better. And anyway, what did he think he was going to say? Because what I’d realized was, whatever happened from that point on, nothing was ever going to be the same again. Not that my life had ever exactly been perfect or anything, but some things were. You know?

  Sadie was.

  Look at me. For fuck’s sake. Fucking doing it again.

  Fucking Shawshank Redemption. Fucking overrated is what it is.

  No, I’m fine.

  I said I’m fine.

  Christ.

  Christ.

  So the rain. I was talking about the rain.

  So yeah, at first it was as though it had started snowing on Christmas Eve or something. But that feeling . . . that sense of relief I mentioned? It didn’t take long to wear off.

  “So are we doing this?” said Cora, when all our bottles were full. Which is exactly what I was talking about before. It’s like, it had started already. You know? The others all looking for some other reason to go home. Because Cora, when she said it, she was looking up at the sky, like we couldn’t go looking for Sadie now, not if it meant getting wet.

  And fucking Abi. Because of course she decides to chip in as well. She was looking at the water in her bottle, going, “You aren’t supposed to drink rainwater either, are you? Isn’t it meant to be full of, like, pollution and stuff?”

  “Well, it’s too late now,” I said, throwing my rucksack over my shoulder. “You’ve already swallowed the equivalent of half a bucketful. So let’s get on with this before the cancer kicks in, shall we?”

  I didn’t give her a chance to respond, and I didn’t wait to see if the others were following me. I started walking back upstream, the way we’d said we’d go before. I went slowly, making a show of scouring the ground around me, and stopping every so often to peer down into the water. Eventually I heard the others fall in behind me. Nobody said anything for a while. There was just the sound of the rain, which had eased off slightly since the clouds had broken, but was still falling heavily enough that there was no particular shelter beneath the trees. I was waiting for the bitching to begin, because after an hour or so even I started feeling the cold. It wasn’t the air temperature so much as the fact that I was completely soaked through. And even though Abi was the only one to bring a waterproof, I fully expected her to be the one to start.

  Except she didn’t. No one did. Instead
, after a while, everyone began to spread out. Cora and Luke crossed the stream, and Fash and Abi moved up alongside me, veering slightly deeper into the woods. There was a curtain of trees between us, but that didn’t stop me hearing what they were saying.

  “Fash?” Abi said, and I could tell by the way she was trying to keep her voice down that she was worried about anyone else listening in.

  Fash looked at her, I guess, and waited for her to go on.

  “What do you reckon happens when you die?” she asked him.

  There was a beat, as though Fash was trying to process what she’d just said. “Bloody hell, Abi,” he hissed at her. There was a gap in the trees then, and I saw him glance over, but I couldn’t tell if he was worried about Luke overhearing, or me.

  “No, I know. But seriously. What do you reckon happens?”

  I could have told her what happens if she’d really wanted to know. Nothing happens. Zilch. It’s lights out and then it’s over. All that bullshit about God and heaven and having a soul . . . if it were true, what would be the point of living in the first place? It’s lies, is what it is. A fucking comfort blanket. When you die, you’re dead, end of story. Literally.

  But obviously that’s not what Abi wanted to hear.

  “I don’t know, do I?” said Fash. “Why are you asking me?”

  He sounded uncomfortable, like death was the last thing he wanted to talk about. Which I suppose it is for most people most of the time, but even still . . .

  “Your mum’s religious, isn’t she?” said Abi. “So I just . . . I don’t know. I just wondered what you thought, that’s all.”

  “My mum’s a Muslim, so what? Luke’s parents are religious, too.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t ask him, can I?” said Abi.

  “If you did he’d probably say the same thing as me. That he doesn’t know either.”

  “I know you don’t know,” Abi said. “No one knows. But what do you think? That’s all I’m asking.”

  Fash exhaled, like he could tell Abi wasn’t going to give it a rest until he answered.

  “I think . . . I think something happens. But I don’t know what.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. But I’m pretty sure neither of them heard.

  “Really?” said Abi, sounding like someone had just offered her a free iPad. “You really think that? That dying isn’t the end?”

  “Keep your voice down, Abi, for Christ’s sake,” said Fash.

  We all walked on for a bit, and neither of them spoke.

  Eventually Fash gave a sigh. “What I think is . . .” he said, in a whisper, and you could tell he was struggling to find the words. “I think there has to be something else. Because . . . I don’t know. It’s like . . . thoughts. You know? Like, where do they come from? And dreams and ideas and . . . and all that stuff. The stuff that isn’t muscle or bone or fat or whatever. The stuff that’s us. The real us, I mean. That has to go somewhere. Right? And maybe there’s no heaven or hell or anything, but there’s definitely got to be something. Like . . .” He sighed again. “I don’t know. Like the way we can’t see infrared. Radio waves. Pollution. Things that are all around us right now. So maybe the afterlife is like that. All around us, but the only thing is, we can’t see it. Not until after we die.”

  At first, when he finished his little speech, I figured he was taking the piss. I kept waiting for him to start laughing, to tell Abi he was yanking her chain.

  But he didn’t. Meaning he actually genuinely believed that shit.

  “Right!” said Abi. “That’s exactly what I reckon! And what you were saying about the things that are around us right now. That’s what I think about ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?” said Fash, and I couldn’t help but glance across. Abi was about ten meters away, deeper in among the trees. Fash had turned toward her, meaning he couldn’t have seen me looking.

  “Right,” Abi said. “Like, if ghosts exist, there has to be something else.”

  “I guess . . .” said Fash. “Although I’m not sure I believe in ghosts exactly.”

  “I do,” said Abi.

  And in my head I’m like, There’s a fucking surprise.

  “I’ve even seen one once. Of my gran. In her old house. My granddad lived there on his own for a bit, after she died, and until his stroke put him in a home, and me and my mum used to stay with him practically every other weekend. And it was one of those times I saw her.”

  “You did?” said Fash. “What was she doing?”

  “She was in the garden,” said Abi, “watering the plants, I think.”

  I turned away to cover my snort. I couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. I mean, seriously. You’re dead. You can walk through walls. So what’s the first thing you decide to do when you come back? Turn the hose on the fucking hydrangeas.

  “Yeah, well,” said Fash, who’d glanced my way. “Like I said, I’m not sure I believe in ghosts.”

  I could tell he wanted to change the subject, but Abi sort of had him trapped.

  “But what you were saying before,” she pressed. “About there being something. Do you reckon, like, with Sadie—”

  But that was as far as she got.

  Fash turned on her. And he snapped like he never snaps at anyone. Not even the dickheads who always give him such a hard time at school.

  “I said I don’t fucking know! OK? Just give it a rest, will you?”

  And he stormed off, leaving Abi standing where he’d left her. She saw me looking over, and she flushed. I couldn’t tell whether she was angry or ashamed or what. She turned away, dropping her head, and hurried on as though following after Fash.

  We walked for hours, after that. No one talking much, everyone dripping wet. We took shelter under an elm tree at around lunchtime, and polished off Abi’s sunflower seeds, as well as most of the sweets, but it was so cold standing around that we all just wanted to keep moving.

  By the time it started getting dark, everyone was dead on their feet. I didn’t know how far we’d come. Miles, it felt like; deeper into the forest than any of us had ever been before. And we hadn’t found anything, needless to say. As the light had begun to fade, the others seemed more worried about looking over their shoulders than at the ground around their feet. The girls, anyway. Fash, too. As though they were thinking about the night before—about whatever had happened at our camp. But again, I didn’t know whether they were genuinely worried or they were only doing it for effect.

  “What’s that?” said Luke, from up ahead.

  I looked where he was pointing, but all I could see were shadows along the bank. We’d stuck with the stream all day, and gradually the terrain had begun to change. The banks either side of the stream had got steeper, the water farther below our feet.

  “Is that a cave?” Luke said, and he waited for the rest of us to catch up.

  I turned on my torch. Sure enough, just in front of us, there was a cavity in the side of the bank. It was as though the roots from the trees above it had opened up a crevice in the rock. It was hard to tell how far back it went, because the torchlight was swallowed by the dark.

  “Uh-uh. No way,” said Abi. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Who said anything about going in there?” said Cora.

  “Although it would get us out of the rain,” said Luke. “And we need a place to sleep, right? Unless anyone was planning on heading home tonight?”

  Which was out of the question, obviously. We’d have struggled to make it back to the clearing we’d slept in before daybreak, let alone all the way to the river.

  “At the very least, we have to take a look,” I said.

  “Take a look?” said Abi. “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? Why do you fucking think?”

  “Chill out, Mason,” said Cora. “Jesus.”

  “Well, I’m going in,” I sai
d, ignoring her. “Is anyone with me?”

  I looked at Fash, who didn’t move. Luke shrugged and made to follow me.

  “Guys,” said Abi, grabbing hold of Luke’s arm. “Seriously. I didn’t want to say anything before, but I’m pretty sure I heard someone following us. If we all go in that cave, they could . . . I don’t know. Trap us, or—”

  “Christ almighty,” I said. “Here we go again. What did you hear exactly, Abi? When? And why didn’t you say anything earlier? It’s not like you to hold back if there’s moaning to be done.”

  Cora shook her head, tutting at me, but she didn’t say anything. Fash just stared at the ground.

  “OK, OK,” said Abi. “Maybe I didn’t hear anything exactly, but I definitely kept getting this feeling. Like someone was watching me, you know? There’s somebody out there, I know there is!” She looked around, over her shoulder, and I realized how much light had gone already.

  “I wouldn’t worry, Abi,” I told her, winking. “It was probably just a ghost.”

  And I turned my torch toward the cave, and led the way into the dark.

  ABI

  HE’S SUCH AN arsehole.

  And it wasn’t just out there in the woods. I told you before, he could be like that even before Sadie went missing. With me, with Fash, with all of us. With Sadie, too. It’s like, when he got that way—all sarky and bitter and cruel—I had to wonder why she even stayed with him. Although, if you ask me, she only did because she was worried what he’d do if she tried to split up with him. Take that time on the beach, for example, when him and Sadie ended up having an argument, and ruining the whole night for everyone else. Sadie accused him of being, like, overbearing or something. Is that the word? Of being like her dad, basically, is what she said. Like, always wanting to know what she was doing, what she was thinking. And Mason said it was only because he loved her, and Sadie said, Well, sometimes it’s just too much. And Mason said, If you feel that way, then why didn’t you tell me? And Sadie said she was telling him, right now, and Mason said, Fine, if that’s the way you feel, I’ll leave you the fuck alone. And he stormed off, and Cora went after him, and I ended up going after Cora, because she had all my stuff in her bag, but not before Sadie started crying. And then, right away after, she was all laughing and that, but in a sad way, going, I guess it’s true what people say, that girls always end up marrying their fathers. Not that she meant actually getting married. I mean, God, can you imagine? Although Mason used to talk about it, too, and he always made out like he was joking, but you just knew, watching him, that actually he wasn’t joking at all. Which I guess is partly what Sadie meant about Mason being like her dad. About wanting to keep her for himself.